Biting into my
banana nut muffin
I realize that
I don’t like them,
and face defeat in
my wheat-free
campaign early
in the day.
This is happening
a lot lately,
a quiet, but clear,
recognition of preference,
a kind of sorting
through my life.
I feel it, looking
at the herbal oils
I have just made,
a sprig of rosemary
in olive oil,
basil in sunflower,
the sunflower so
clear and clean
I wonder why
anyone would prefer
the dark olive.
Last night I made
and thought I’ll probably
not do it again,
feeling weighed down
and heavy,
a burning pain.
Things are different
without a gallbladder,
an organ which helps
digest the food
you shouldn’t
have had.
A front line
defense for
the liver.
It is associated
with bitterness.
I tried to relinquish
all I was bitter
about in order
to heal it.
Nearly a year ago
Bitterness built up
from years
of swallowing
bitter pills.

He tries to bait
me with his
born again Christians
or just Christians,
I’m not sure which,
“are idiots.”
I say nothing
biting into
the muffin.
The new Leonard Cohen
is playing,
a two-CD set
I tell him,
that is what inspired
his remarks,
a critique of Cohen
vs. Dylan.
I discovered
Leonard Cohen
on a Sunday morning
in Salt Lake City,
a t.v. documentary
about him,
hard to believe
I saw it there
and then.
I remember the
rooms in the film,
rooms I would expect
to find in Greece
or Spain,
a large table
pushed against
the wall beneath
a window,
an old table with
splintered wood,
a manual typewriter.
I don’t know
if any of that
is what I actually
but it is what
I had the feeling of,
I was twenty then
and did not know
how life would turn
Hopefully, I will say
that some day,
more optimistically,
about today.