Worth, part 1 [poem]

what is my worth?
        she asks me, a good idea from the shower, she says.
        she struggles too, with depth, an eagerness to know
        both of us

pulling clothes from the line, sandy feet
shuffle on the marble rooftop

        nothing, I smirk
        the easy answer, my attitude, my honesty, my pride
        there is no value, no real worth, inside my moments
        it’s all just now, anyhow

no different am I from the tree just beside
she has no leaves, no blossoms, no bark, yet is
holding tight to the ground, yet gives
shade for the man in gray, offers
view for the bush-tailed chipmunk, a
perch for the pigeon pair I saw mating once, a lustful quickie on a pillar, silent
picture for the neighbor servant
girl wearing red

        who am I but the dust that flies
        into my child’s eyes, my own
        belonging neither to me, nor life itself
        able to die more quickly than
        one takes, chooses, a life

        it’s all a dream, I fear, I feel
        jaded as the years drag on

Is awareness always so solemn?
        I’ll ask her that, I think

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