The tiny movies of the heart

Tiny movies.

Captured movements from the day

the horses        day smells

sounds nothing like the now

with its jacking hammers and scream of traffic

why are we so stressed and despairing?

I won't ask myself, or them.

A shiny horse

moves into view, a horse

almost supernatural

in its beauty

in its stillness

in its oblivion

in its centrality to their existence

not just a car but a beloved beast

cared for

not by oil changes

but a curry comb

and gentle words

I can hear it whuffing and whickering

and responding

and smell its superb

glossy hide

it is animate

and capable of relationship

it is not just a dull means

of transportation

People file and hustle and hurry

off a train or boat

all their faces are different

as faces are always different

but faces were different then

each person's demeanor their own

anxious faces

bored faces

tired faces

one woman is skipping

a man adjusts his hat

(or does he tip it to the camera?)

most are businesslike

but give the appearance

of going home

A smooth skim along a beach, carriages sailing across the view 

as the camera tracks, perhaps on wheels

some people vaguely aware that someone is cranking a thing at them

do they know what it is?

Those moving pictures.

Imagine me in a moving picture!

and all those horses just standing, standing patiently

it must be very hard to stand so patiently

waiting for what?

Are these cabs for the rich? 

A man twirls his umbrella as he walks with his woman

everybody's making love or else

expecting rain

Think how long all these people are dead.

Think of their descendents.

Think of them begetting them

and birthing them.

It's crazy and frightening

to think of this moment

of sand and smells

gulls

and sea creatures dead for more than a century

but their descendents still gasping for their existence

in a sea now foul and choked

that heavenly vista

likely gone for good