Just finished watching this charming film on Netflix.
I wanted to welcome July 1 with this post.
Did I tell you I watched C-SPAN? The guest, whose name I forget, has written books, magazine articles and is a teacher. He's gotten to be fairly old.
Roger Rosenblatt.
He lived in the basement for 22 years as his daughter had died and he and his wife took care of the children.
One of his books is called MY GRANDFATHER LIVES IN THE BASEMENT AND DOES NOTHING ALL DAY.
And of course I'm thirsty - all them pretzel sticks I ate - plus Patrick's honey - oh dear, there was only a tiny bit of water left in a tall water glass.
When I finished watching the movie, I turned out the light, so I wouldn't attract bugs, and wrote down the first lines of a poem, which I shall now finish.
Ahem! Clearing of throat, Gnashing of teeth. Flexing of arm muscles.
OUR DARK STREET
Nary a light is on.
Were I a night bird
I'd head for the dining room
of one of these black houses
and that would be the end of me.
We're so similar to one another,
though our species differ. Humans,
avians, and even bovines, moo cows too
might wander into the kitchen window
My solar lights guide no one in particular
up the side walk. I follow them with my eyes
making use of their phenomenal power,
the power of the sun, until several billion
years from now, they flash on and off
on and off and say farewell forever.
No comments:
Post a Comment