He called and left a message. I never answer the phone unless I know who it is. A local call. A local boy.
He has poems for the Compass. Good uns. I told him the end of the Hitler one didn't make sense.
Dyou have it there, I asked.
No, he said, I'm at the laundromat.
He told me to fix it up any way I liked. Will do.
How ya doing? I asked Tommy. Could tell by his voice he was not doing well.
Hanging in there, he said.
I'd never heard him talk this way,
Here's what I want you to do, I said.
Write a poem. Write it about the laundromat. Write about the steamy windows, the people who are there, your PJs circling in the dryer.
I think he will.
I'll write one, too.
Such vivid imagery,
My FB poem of the day
Helene, 88, actually lives at Rydal Park nursing home. Hates it.
TO MY FRIEND HELENE
I see her now
exiting from her
green and white
She's walking up the
sidewalk, a package
in her hand
She stomps her feet
on my carpet then
hands it to me
A blood-red amaryllis
my very first
What a thrill!
Coffee? I ask.
Not today, she
says. Like Santa
Clause, I have
Aren't we lucky,
I say, we have
so many friends
books and lovers
I mailed her the poem at Rydal Park along with my New Year's resolution article.
Time for a nap.
Was up until 4 am submitting.
Question: Should I feel guilty?
"Lilly" in ND has a terrible relationship with her BF. She asked me for a counselor who specializes in domestic violence.
I researched it, which took about 45 minutes and emailed it to her. She thanked me.
Then, three weeks later, she asks me again.
I already sent it to you, I said. You'll have to check your previous emails.
I don't feel guilty but .....