Don Kingfisher Campbell

A Driveway

Along the setback
a burgundy-tipped
green-flowered
succulent reaches
up with many
branches in a
dusty black 
plastic pot with
drainage holes
at the bottom

A little spiky
palm tree is
rooted near
the further edge, 
anchored by
a brick sized
asphalt chunk

Across from them
white calla lilies
gracefully spiral out
of tall stems taking
in the sun and small
predatory beetles

A large flowering
bush has started
to grow above
the lip of the long
concrete path
(a side-view
mirror hazard)

Just last month
my new wife
personally planted
two two-week-old
(gifted by me)
Home Depot tiny
drooping brown
flower bunches
hoping they will
eventually recover

Unfortunately, there
are also still a few
marks as you travel
down the entranceway

A black spray-painted
BMW grille shadow
from when my daughter
and her husband
stayed here for six
pandemic months

And a trail of white
paint tire tracks
left over from
my ex-girlfriend's 
poured jealousy
one morning in
early 2018 after
I had married
someone else

Who turned out
to want nothing
more than a green
card marriage
(thank god she's
behind me)

 

Snake and Pig

She misses sitting at a round table
with her friends for the Dragon
Boat Festival watching delicious
dishes and drinks carousel around.

They send each other WeChat
photos and videos. Hers, of the
flora and fauna we encounter or
the legendary discount and outlet
stores I drive her to shop in.

On her cellphone she also listens
to music of her homeland, looks
at funny and informative TikTok
postings of biracial domestic
relationships and crafty cooking,
whiling away the hours I spend
reading, writing, publishing poetry
or absorbing YouTube songs
and controversial comedians.

Sometimes we sit on pushed together
oversized cushiony massage chairs
for a couple experience when we’re
lucky enough to find a mutual interest,
like The Squid Game, NBA basketball,
or The Hospital, a Taiwanese soap opera
featuring world famous Asian stars.

She was a nurse for 22 years in
the communist China navy. Still
gets a meager pension, rents out
rooms in her island and mainland
“houses”, really multi-story condos.

Yet here she is seeking lifelong love and
security, a home in America, specifically
California, because her new husband is
a native, raised in Monterey Park, so
my taste in women made us a match
formed in handheld internet haven.

And trust Google translates every day
conversations, so we can communicate
like a regular pair of loving humans,
trying to comfort one another in a
world troubled by superficialities
like race, gender, religion, and politics.

In our own duplex existence, we
happily execute meals, shopping
trips, even sex, as if we were grown
schoolchildren becoming old
partners, playfully sharing our
discoveries, revelations, and feelings.

We have learned to confide in being
mated beings, the breathing lifeforms,
chemically bonded through eyes,
arms, lips, and fluid exchange.

 

Don Kingfisher Campbell, MFA from Antioch University L.A., taught at Occidental College Upward Bound for 36 years, been poetry editor of the Angel City Review, publisher of Spectrum magazine, and host of the Saturday Afternoon Poetry reading and workshop series in Pasadena, California. For awards, features, and publication credits, please go to: http://dkc1031.blogspot.com