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Intersections... from feeding
the world to remembering dear ones, The following poem by ECVA President, Ken Arnold, provides a fitting first step into this exhibition. Intersected by Ken Arnold
“Where are you? What are you doing?” Not cell-phone banter, she needs to know. She thinks I’m lost. She’s been waiting. “I’m at the corner of Walk and Don’t Walk.” It’s an old joke, but that’s where I am, at an nondescript crossing without signs in a city I don’t know. This is her town. “A red Mercedes just passed”— I check the sun—“going east.” Her exasperated sigh is familiar.
I am not lost. I know where I am, at the intersection of now and then where my body has been deposited between a mailbox and a fire hydrant in front of a diner’s gaudy facade. We always wake up where we are. “There’s a cafe here.” I tell her the name. “I’ll come to you,” she says, with love’s assurance. I go in for a coffee, sit by the window to watch as others arrive at the corner and wait for the light.
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