3219. ALREADY A CLOSE CALL

ALREADY A CLOSE CALL
Before the morning ended, it had been,
already, a close call. That radio you had
playing in the basement; some dumb, old
Ray Charles tune I could never figure out.
It seemed to run forever when most
unwanted. Like a needle beneath the skin.
Feet up, and just looking out, I watched
you make some coffee. Down below, nothing,
while outside, the clamor of 17th had already
begun. A furniture truck, an antique supply-
house 'supplying' antiques. Go figure on that
one, I thought to myself. Too close to call,
all those craft-art people scouring old barns
for mission-antique country furniture. All
a lie, and I knew it now. The shiny metal
globe they were bringing in, on its valued
silver pedestal. That old gilt-framed portrait,
I bet, was of great-Grandad Cyrus Hardenberg
himself, straight back from the Civil War.
Too close to call, that close call already.