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.
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.