Shadow weekend, Berkeley and San Fransisco.
Helen and feelings and emptiness
torn fabric from another cloth
we could touch and talk but there was something gone between
I reached across to where she was…eyes of love
but the distance was much too far.
Her world comes apart every two weeks
and she’s here and I’m there…
“Doctor my eyes” by Jackson Browne played
and I told her I felt like that … I see too clear
its something about my ability to emphasize, to see
that is what she needs so badly
‘Touch me with some reality beyond these labels and acts,
beyond the ache of acute insanities and those screaming doubts
about the future and relief.’, her eyes say.
I can, I care … but it costs me some deep ache,
some transference … some ultimate barrier beyond which
my empathy and her haunted eyes cannot … cannot go.
As the jet rose I took my peace and understanding back…
it can only be given as token…
the abyss waits on all of us in various degrees my sister
good luck to you… what else can I say….?
gallagher
10 dec 78
– upon leaving SF and visiting helen
o’flarity
— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —
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