Who Do You Love?
I wish I could understand
why I know that Bo Diddley
had a one-eyed white bull dog
named Lola,
yet I can’t remember
what year my favorite
grandfather died
Or his age, for that matter
I know that Gram Parsons
was first Ingram Connors
that Elvis had a twin named Jesse
and what the Killer said
when he played piano
right before Little Richard
Yet, I can’t remember
where I put my birth certificate,
when to change the air conditioner filter
or my first husband’s mother’s name
I know that Bo said “Don’t trust
no one but your mama, and look real
hard at her”, but I can’t recall
Christmas when I was six years old
Same for seven, eight, nine and ten
Who do you love?
© Alyce Guynn
June 2, 2008
The Rag Blog
Or what? Loved this.
Oh, Alyce
your poem speaks to me, oh thoughtful one.
And on reflection helps open, in a lovely way, some questioning wonderment about love.
One immediate answer to your bottom line: you, of course.
Say, Alyce, might you also post your poem that you had just written and then read, standing, after a big dinner at Alice’s and Carlos’ place when I visited briefly years ago for the first time in many years — it involved a variety of good old friends, in various constellations, being together, aware of their histories, and was for me also a praise of (can one say an ode to?) humane dignity. If that is not enough for you to recall which poem I mean, I do not have it here where I am writing from, but know where it is and will email you in a few days.
For now, and for the future,
David MacB