Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The Dinner Worry


In the midst of my modest wealth and ability to spend, 
it sets in, taking the comfortable chair, 
the chaise with the button-backed cushions, 
and frames its face by the window's changeable sunlight 
while I'm in the thick of wondering 
by whose invitation it comes by.

No one could arrange more awkward stay, 
a visitant whose not-so-veiled requests 
come on as knuckle cuffs, gloved punches, 
asking if another wine or fruit be served, 
no one other than me, the host, to fetch, 
nothing but 'just do', to handle the appetite.

If I were dreaming, this would pass on through, 
be gone like an intrusive aunt or a workman 
saving travel hours by sleeping in my garage, 
my habits thrown to a corner for just that while, 
all that I've grown to expect so disarranged like hair
but able yet to be combed -- if only I were dreaming this.


.

10 comments:

  1. A stunning and thoughtfilled write...and to not be dreaming this...loved every bit of this Trulyfool...and sorry I have been present as of late....thanks for the sip of wine...bkm

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  2. Barbara,

    I've been spotty these past few months, and I thank you for returning just to see if I've anything new!

    Looking over this piece, I see a place or two I'd revise, but basically, it's a bit of Sartre's Nausee, American style.

    Hadn't seen that before -- just felt it.

    Good to transact with you again!

    Trulyfool

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  3. Been missing you some out here
    where the magpies swarm, in the
    thin air. Terrific poem, sir. It spoke
    to me of arthritis, malaise, or some
    other unwelcome process of aging.
    Yet "it" can be so many things,
    animal, viral, or vegetable.

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  4. Glenn,

    I've been missing me, as well. Redirected energies, my friend, but glad to be back, at least for this one that made sense to you.

    You've pegged 'it'. Something's gone wrong, somatically behind the scenes in this poem. Or spiritually.

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  5. I bow to you for this poem, and for your blog which is a feast.

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  6. Wonderful thoughtful words - amazing stuff.

    Anna :o]

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  7. Wonderful piece. And I adore Monty Woolley, by the way. I want him to come back and marry me.

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  8. Lydia,

    Thank you! I've been distracted from writing in the blog, really on-and-off for a couple of months. It's good to find you still here and reading!

    Trulyfool

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  9. Anna,

    I get torn between minimalist word gestures and strings that convey a kind of narrative.

    This falls toward the latter?

    It's something we avoid thinking too much about . . . illness. Until.

    (Still well, here, though -- remaining happy and kicking up my heels!)

    TFool

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  10. Tess,

    Monty is one of those actors whose elocution is supreme. When you speak that well, you can carry the feigned arrogance around like a good friend.

    You might be able to marry him, but if gossip serves, you would then be his second 'beard'?

    Monty, I believe, was a 'gentleman's gentleman' (and not the butler).

    Truly, fool

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