How to explain the quotidian?
The richness of the not extraordinary
self being in the world.
Every day extra croissants
with coffee, newspapers in two tongues,
an attic room with dark-chocolate
beams at the city’s forehead
on spires, sycamores, tourist crowds,
suburban hives of the immigrant forgotten.
Shops disappoint, but every day
another church, long-storied windows,
a café called Flowers
where we daily eat our salads
and colonize the river.
What to report of life so routine?
This face is the one I live in,
this body drinking in
snifters and fluted glass.
My blood becomes—how to say it?—
a spectre of this room, this comfortable isle
where we unpack ourselves of
hangings back home.
Any city afar can render
this service, rolling countryside
with stone tiled houses,
yet this is our soul, our mind
as long as we wake here, eat and take
our daily walks. Let me
just say we wish you
could grace the adjoining room
and the conversation could
dance like these lucent lace curtains
on a glorious June afternoon
when nothing but ourselves ever
happens and time bends
around the corner awnings,
sun chooses to linger
and we can’t
decide what is real
and never will
Causes David Radavich Supports
Human rights world-wide, ecology/conservation, historic preservation