For Maria (and Ethiopia)... Hearts That Bleed When Broken

I believed the last volunteer
Had been laid to rest
And that her tombstone read thusly:

Every ship needs its dinghy
And the cause was not celebre
But it was mine

But on a beach
Between Pacifica and San Francisco
I thought I glimpsed a mast
Above the breakers
Where a lonely fisherman was rowing
His dirigible toward the solidness
Of his boat

Reminding me of the day
You looked solidly up from your checkbook
And admitted to me:

I don't want to think about Ethiopia today
I've got my rent
And bills to pay

Before reaching for the calculator


Well, the yellowness of his rain coat
Worked in contrast with the gray sky
The moon was hung awkwardly from rebar
On a concrete wall

And I was remembering how
We had swore to each other
That things between us
Should never grow strange

Yet I couldn't help thinking
That Ethiopia
Wouldn't be far enough away