And What About the Ones from The Island?

for M.L.Dawe and the gang

I mean I can sit back
for the rest of my days
and look through
a flittering landscape

a rolodex in my heart
of moments with these
absolute angels and

I can honestly,
without
hesitating for
so much as a nano declare
there have been
some truly amazing smiles,

like, the kind where you
just see their childhood
beaming out at you,

some sort of lighthouse
laugh-line-coastal curve.

You know that person
intimately, the first time
you speak,

and the only joy that
replaces it is every next
one after it.

The kind that opens
your soul like the little
cupboard in that movie
about the tiny Indian.

The kind you catch
riding through the wind
with that smile,
time and time again,
on an old schwin or

a Harley or just jogging,
just out to run through life,
like we all should-

like we are lucky to have it.

Yes, she is certainly one of those.

But it was the smile,
it was a fresh orange crisply
spreading a sweet scent over
your whole day.

It’s a thing about the ones from down here
in the East.

They all smile like it still means something.

Like it is innately connected
to survival and to
the nuance of each community.

Like the day depended on it.
That’s how they smiled at me,

like angels who knew the trick
of staying human amidst any,
and all conditions.

Like legends.
Like friends.

– Love,
the Ginj.

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