It Could Have Been Different

It Could Have Been Different

I kind of rolled out of
bed, on two wobbly
legs this chilled February
morning in Minnesota.
I bid my wife
farewell, as
she went to work at the Post Office.
I went to the bookstore
café, had brunch
(a cheese sandwich and coffee;
not unusual).
The afternoon faded
into evening quick.
It could have been different,
I know.

Around 6:00 PM, I had some
chicken soup. Read some
Faulkner (a chapter
or two).
Wrote a short story called:
“Long sided Cat eyes.”
Then met a friend,
Gene,
we talked about white-teeth
(on the Oprah Show
last night)
and a dog with one
leg,
and we laughed
whole heartedly.
It could have been different,
I know.

Now I’m sitting here
alone. In an hour I have
to pick up my wife,
take her and myself
home.
We have plans for
tomorrow,
next month! but
it could be different,
I know!

[Some thought on what Poetry is for Me]: I know more of what poetry is not, than what it is; having said that let me add, for me it is an expression, and one we use to affect, get affect, for affect. If the poem has no influence on you, it is not your cup of tea. There seems to be a spirit in a good poem: concentrated with its best of best words. My poems are not about what should be or should not be, rather what is; bleak at times like the dark side of he moon, and bright at times like the sun. Part intelligent but mostly heart; set in some kind of order (usually): which stretch from the graveyard to the gates of heaven. I do hope you enjoy them; I’ve enjoyed writing them [for 46-years]. Dennis

IN SPANISH
Translated by: Nancy Penaloza

Podría Haber Sido Diferente

Yo en cierto modo estirado fuera de
Cama, sobre dos temblorosas
Piernas esta mañana enfriada de

Febrero en Minnesota.
Me despido de mi esposa, mientras
Ella se fue a trabajar en el oficina postal.
Yo fui hacia la biblioteca
Desayuno, tuve un desayuno almuerzo
(Un bocadillo de queso y café;
Poco común).
La tarde descolorida
Dentro de un atardecer veloz.
Podría haber sido diferente,
Lo se.

Alrededor de las 6:PM., tuve alguna
Sopa de pollo. Leyendo algo de
Faulkner (un capitulo o
Dos).
Escribí una corta historia llamada:
“grandes ojos de gato”
Luego encontré a un amigo,
Gene,
Nosotros hablamos acerca de dientes-blancos
(En la exposición de Oprah
Anoche)
Y un perro con una
Pierna,
Y reímos
Con todo el corazón
Podría haber sido diferente
Lo sé.

Ahora estoy sentado aquí
Solo. En una hora tengo
Que recoger a mi esposa,
Y llevarla conmigo
A casa.

Tenemos planes para
Mañana,
¡El próximo mes! Pero
Esto podría ser diferente,
¡Lo sé!