I wait impatiently at the curb
for my long ride to Sacramento
and suddenly realize I’m not here
for the present moment of now.
I kick myself in the butt for not
seeing the explosion of fiery color
in my neighbor’s red bougainvillia.
Now I notice the spiderweb of wires
with a lone shoe hanging on a wire
on top of a creosoted old utility pole.
I watch a parade of passing couples
and wonder why so many big men
seem attracted to very little women.
It must concern the desire of women
to feel safe and protected by big men,
a forgotten remnant of cave man days.
Be here now, my teacher always said.
I’m trying to heed his sage advice.