one-up

Posted by riverwriter on Nov 7th, 2009 | 0 comments

Yes, I’m sorry to hear it; he was a good man,
your husband. Reminds me of when my dog died:
he died of a heart attack, too. At least that’s
what the vet said: his old ticker just gave out.
I was so sad for so long; the grief is just
overwhelming—you kind of get used to
having them around. I cried all the way back
from the vet’s. Carried him (more…)

legal question

Posted by riverwriter on Sep 3rd, 2009 | 0 comments

Excuse me, I know this is a party,
but while you have a moment,
I wonder if you would answer
a legal question for me?

I suppose you get this all the time (more…)

insidious

Posted by riverwriter on Jan 22nd, 2009 | 0 comments

Just a minute, Charmaine: I see one over there—shit!
That bitch beat me to it! I’ll have to get back to you—
No, I’m in the hardware section; you know, where that
tall guy with the big blue eyes—no, I’m not; He’s wearing
a ring, for godsakes! Charmaine, I’m going to hang up if you—
Hold on, there’s a throw rug that’s be perfect for the den:
and it’s only eighty-five dollars! Just a sec;
there’s a label here somewhere: China. Why? Hell, it’s
pure wool and acrylic, and the colours are perfect for—
Charmaine, I realize Henry works at Weavers, but
it’s only eighty-five—What do you mean, “worked”?
Don’t cry. Honey, what you need is a good cry
on a good shoulder. I’ll see you at Tim’s.
With the money I’m saving here,
lunch is on me.

The voice of the poet

coffee stop

Posted by riverwriter on Apr 21st, 2008 | 2 comments

I prefer booths;
these tables are too close together,
but not enough like a Paris café:
where’s the arrogant waiter
tyrannizing between the tables?
These wimpy servers are too pale
and worried to pull it off.

You were talking about your cousin:
how she’s dying of
chemotherapy or something;
and I was telling you about the crows
how they shit on my car
and burned the paint.

That guy over there must weigh four hundred pounds;
he looks like he’s going to eat the table next.
I thought his box of donuts was for takeout—
hear me? I was afraid he was going to eat me,
and not in a good way.
Okay. So your sis—

. . . than a sick husband

Posted by riverwriter on Feb 5th, 2008 | 9 comments

All wives know this for fact:

There is no one sicker
than a sick husband.

I totally agree: and as you know,
I am no wife.

I tried to make a list of concerns,
but I am too sick to write:
my head aches
my eyes are burning
I am sure I have a temperature
—okay, it didn’t show
the last few times I took it
but I feel much worse now
—and did I tell you
my throat is sore?

My wife never gets this sick:
when she got a mild case
of sniffles last week I told her
to stay in bed,
but she had her friends
coming for bridge and lunch
the next day and had to clean.
I am pleased to say
I gave up watching the game
while I vacuumed the living room
and dried a load
and did dishes—she says
licking several bowls is not doing dishes;
but I was at the sink
and I did stuff
to help out.

But she never gets as sick
as this:
whereas she had a mild
case of sniffles,
I have a full blown cold
or maybe pneumonia.
It’s not fair:
I have this pain in my chest
—and did I tell you about the fever?
My eyes are so sore
I can watch TV for only a few hours
at a time
and I can hardly
hold up the newspaper
but I have to stay informed.

One advantage of Facebook and
email is that I can keep my friends
in the loop about my condition.

Anyway, that’s why I called, Ann:
I thought: talk to my lawyer.
I believe my will is in order but
perhaps after
my doctor’s appointment
this afternoon
I could drop by your office
and check it out?
With pneumonia,
you never know.