I WAS HOPING
YOU'D BE HERE
"And, yes, just like that; been an admirer
of yours for years and though we never
spoke I'd often go over my lines. It would
always remind me of being a kid again,
back in 11th grade when I had roles
in school plays - memory and rote,
knowing what to say. All that stuff
is so important when the stage lights
are on. But, no matter, we never spoke.
-
Before today, that is, and now I'm glad it's
you. You look a bit different than I'd expected.
But so what, what matter is that? I don't care.
Vampire blue-bloods and wild forest animals,
when they finally meet, never respond to
how they look. As e. e. cummings put it
once : "myself, walking in Dragon st.
one fine fine day August night, i just
happened to me 'how do you so' she
smiling said 'thought you were earning
your living or probably dead' so Jones
was murdered by a man named Smith
and we sail on the Leviathan."
-
I'm not sure, of course, that gets it
across at all, what I'm meaning to say.
But it will have to do. One day, another
time, I remember, in a car, stopping at some
guys house I never knew, just because he
lived in a small house my wife's uncle
once lived in. We'd often visited; he lived
right there at Deal Beach - in a seaside
cottage, though not at the sea, which was
about fifteen blocks off. No matter. The
guy was outside, and came over to talk.
-
It was all a long time ago. We told him
what was up, and he asked what I remembered.
Well, all I could think to say was, 'The streets
in April turn young with rain.' At that we
shook hands, and he walked away."
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