When we talk, don’t pull your chair up opposite of me
so that the only thing I can see is you,
sitting there like an inquisition.
And don’t swing your chair around to sit right beside me either,
all chummy and knowing what’s what in my world,
how I feel, what I think, as though you’re seeing
exactly what I see.
Instead, move your chair to the side,
turned yet congruent, our knees concurrent,
our limbs forming an equilateral space,
let’s start like that, let’s talk there,
where words without glinting edges or presumptive sponges
can come or go or even stop for a while, without
any wilting inner-pressure, or poisoned partisan script,
where we can see one another, more than peripheral,
comfortable, seated at ease, at the sides of our eyes,
and where, yes, I can still see what you see,
and you can see what I see, but knowing, clearly,
we don’t have the same visual angle —
transparent to the fact, we each have our slant,
our scalene sides,
but aware, as well, of an intersection, not far off,
awake to the vectorial overlap of our views,
let’s start with that, let’s meet there.
Unless we are physically blind, in which case
let’s not speak over each other, or at each other,
like barking soliloquists,
better: let’s draw near enough to hear
the gradient range of waves,
diminishing decibels of receding storms,
find the geometric rhyme and rhythm of intervals,
dyadic dignity, tonal deference, chromatic obeisance,
take note of the clefs of harmony on a far horizon,
and free of any projected images, rest, here,
in the delicate absence of discord, this brief interlude,
the tremulous dawning of a new duet.
Wow! A woven multiplicity of perspectives at play, insightfully!
Thanks Ike!
Thank you, Stephen. Aside from your lilting language of significant need for awareness, I’m thinking of this admonition in my role as spiritual director, where we position ourselves with those who come. Maybe I’ll experiment, though in these days of Zoom, perhaps experimenting will have to wait. I think I am remembering a discussion long ago in which the seating arrangement most comfortable for males and females was examined and the one you described was the preferred one for males interacting. I’ll be curious whether anyone else, male and female, have thoughts.
Thank you Ann! And now I’m wondering, in these virtual days of Zoom, in the absence of physicality, about how any of this might relate, might apply. Thanks again for reading and for posing these thoughts.
So interesting! You always get me wrapped up in your words STB 🙂
Thank you Doug! You are kind.
What zoom misses – studying the picture: two persons, seated easily on a park bench at the poetically prescribed angle … and yet careful, perhaps a bit self-protective? Arms crossed, legs crossed away from each other, one leaning away, the other leaning toward … but I confess that I have no idea what all these postures might mean, and I draw no conclusions. It looks like an idyllic conversation in a beautiful park – two people seeking understanding, and even more – connection. The poem had beautiful words too.
Exquisitely described. Thanks Sam!