After the Blossoms Fall*

I believe that God loves me in an absurdly special way;
And since I am so loved, I am occasionally exempted
From abiding by the laws of physics, even biology.

I too often presume a divine commitment
To the happy well-being of my delusions
And the triumph of my quixotic desires.
Indeed, I regularly confuse Providence
With the goals of a personal universe.

So, I grabbed my camera and headed to the waterfront
Where all the azaleas grow along River Street,
Even though I had no idea if those trees
Were still in the midst of first blossom

They were a few days ago, so why not today?

But that day, the sun had not been made to stand still.
The blossoms had already fallen, and I ended up
Chatting with an angry tour boat captain
Who said he was done hauling dopes
Around Bald Head for mere nickels
And had no interest in azaleas
Or the hopes of another.

He was a very bitter guy who seemed on the verge
Of giving up on things altogether �" Forever.

And I think he was tempted
To kick me in the balls just for noticing that.
He also hated his fat, lazy, “c**k-eyed, partner,”
Which I took as a sign and the inspiration for this poem.