I Dream of Circus Characters: A Berkeley Chronicle

2010

Beatitude Press, Berkeley, California.

ISBN: 9780982506684

92 pages, 5.5" x 8.5", perfect-bound, paperback

$14.95

Cover art by Betty Bishop.

Order directly from Judy Wells at jwellspoet@yahoo.com

THE MATISSE T-SHIRT

After Matisse’s Icarus, from Jazz, Paris, 1947

I saw it in a catalogue                                                                        

advertising chic artistic                                                                      

            things to wear—                                                                    

a Matisse Jazz t-shirt

100% cotton in true

            Matisse blue

Icarus falling soundlessly

            through space

so said the ad—

But when I pulled it

            from its package

and over my chest

all I could hear were

            sounds—

gunfire, brilliant shattered

            stars of yellow

One direct hit—

The red dot on Icarus’ heart

His black body falling

`           a crucifix

through Matisse’s true blue

            jazz sky

and the sounds were so loud

            I knew

I could not wear this image

            blazed on my chest

Not here in Oakland

Not here in Berkeley

Not here in Richmond

where gunfire rings out          

            in the night

cross-fire at dawn

and Black Icarus

lies in a pool of

            brilliant red

day

after day

after day

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells.

GIRL AT THE BEANERY CAFÉ, COLLEGE AVE.

She sits with her

grandmother, perhaps,

clenching a vanilla smoothie.

She has Alice-in-Wonderland

tresses around her face

which she twists and turns

with the emotions

of a story her

grandmother, perhaps,

is reading to her

from a thick tome.

The girl’s eyes register concern,

alarm, anxiety,

and I wonder

from my seat next to her

what, on heaven’s earth,

is grandmother reading

in that soft relentless tone?

She does not look up

at Alice’s face

(for I have now named her Alice)

nor does she seem to notice

that Alice is squirming

and clenching her locks.

What can she be reading,

this sturdy grandma

with short grey hair

and Ben Franklin glasses?

I want to ask.

I want to peer over her

shoulder and see whether

it’s Harry Potter

or perhaps The Tell-Tale Heart

by Edgar Allan Poe

but I don’t.

No matter.

I am witnessing the power

of literature, the power

of storytelling, the power

of grandmas over little girls

and I wonder

Who will Alice be

when she grows up?

A Ph.D. in lit,

a poet,

or a patient on a therapist’s couch

talking about the times

her grandma, perhaps,

tortured her

in a coffee shop

in Berkeley.

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells.





SUPERMARKET LOVE

Last week at Whole Foods

as I was reaching

into the refrigerated shelves

for the coldest tofu

with the most future

expiration date

a yellow gloved hand

from the other side

laid itself on mine.

I nearly jumped a mile.

"Oh sorry!" said a woman's voice

from the other side.

A man behind me laughed.

This week as I walked by

the same tofu

section

I heard a disembodied voice

from the other side say,

"I needed you,

and you have never

been there

for me once."

“Yes, I have,”

I wanted to protest.

"Last week!”

Copyright 2015 by Judy Wells.