A while ago when the world was younger
not just us but Everyone and Everything
a while ago when there were Many Steves
(can you think of a Baby Steve now? I can’t)
a while ago when we went on dates with people we met
Anywhere at All, in the grocery store in the park
when there was no ONLINE anything
when ONLINE wasn’t even a THING because there was no line
a while ago when Naomi, an aspirational Bohemian,
wildly desirous of Life in the Chelsea Hotel Forever,
Naomi who wanted to be An Artist of Any Kind (not
a puppeteer or a dancer but the rest was all OK,) painter
at the top of the list although she’d never painted, probably couldn’t,
a while ago when Naomi was as agile as every single person
who is young, who did not have one body part that Hurt not
one except for an occasional tooth, she was standing in a book store
on 8th Street, a wonderful old bookstore and in walked someone
scruffy enough to possibly be An Artist, probably a photographer
but maybe even a writer, and he walked right up to her
as though he’d walked right up to her 1,000 times before, He
did not say Hello. Just: I’m Steve.
Happy National Poetry Month! Thank you for this and all the other poetry that flies into my email box!
Where have all the Steve’s Bruce’s, Denises, Bills and Johns gone. Why don’t people have normal names anymore? My own name isn’t a regular one.