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COOKBOOK
As a youngster I thought I hadconvinced my grandmotherto one day entrust me withthe old family recipes, sincemy mother wanted little to dowith the kitchen and less withanything that came from “there.” It was a bit of a shock to learnyears later that grandma wasborn in London, that her mothershared my mother’s dislikefor the kitchen…
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NEVER, STILL
I know what you did not tell them,that much I could learn for myself,but what did you tell them? I knowyou were full figured, I think thatis the acceptable term, once it wasReubenesque, but someonemust have noticed something. Maybe those at work, sitting at theirterminals didn’t notice, you cameand went, few friendships perhaps,but you were…
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RECITAL
The keys didn’t frighten me. 88 of them, but I’d never use the majority, probably. And the ones I knew were generally well behaved, although they did defy me from time to time, and then said it was my fault, they didn’t respond to wishes, just fingers, And even the audience didn’t bother me, not…
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WRITING MY STORY
With the stroke of a pen,they enabled me to write the story,gave a framework on whichI could hang all mannerof dreams and assumptions,inviting a search I neverquite got around to making. I wandered the beachesof Estoril in my dreams,stalked the avenues of Lisbon,looking for a familiar face,but found only ghosts. With the stroke of a…
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STONE
Just outside townin the old dump isa slab of concreteits twisted edges piercedby rusting rebaronce the floorof the gazebo in the commons.Etched into its surfaceJim + MarieJanet Loves Eddie.Their loves were undyingcast into stone to wearslowly through the agesnot to fall victimto the jackhammer.Jim lies underthe simple stone“Sgt. U. S. ArmyServed Vietnam,”Marie left for collegebut…
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THE HOUSE ON PEABODY
It was brick, red I am told.on a quiet street not farfrom 16th Street and its traffic.It was small, but a good homefor a couple with a child or twoin the heart of the District. I have no recollection of it,save the tile, black and whitein the bathroom, the radiatoron which I hit my head,and…
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FRIENDS
We will always be friends, we said,probably half meaning it at the time.How many times have we said thator somthing akin to it, knowingthat the promise to call, to stayin close touch, was at besthalf meant and almost certainnot to come to any reality. I have a catalog of friends, whoI told I would never…
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TRIPTYCH
A triptych hangs in the gallery of memory. Admission is by invitation only. The first panel is a time fogged mirror into which I stare. The adopted image hides behind the tarnished silver. My adopted mother’s voice is heard from a hidden speaker: “You were named after my father.” I want to tape his picture…
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PATIENCE
Even a cat knows when the screen is on Zoom, you sit and wait. Or stick your head in the picture so all can acknowledge your presence. Either works, and you know patience is not a virtue, but at times a necessity. You are a cat, after all. Patience is for dogs, poor beasts, having…
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WE COULD
We could, if you want,sit in the park on our foldingchairs or better a folded blanketand stare out over the pond,its silver surface shirredby a midday breeze. We could picnic, sandwichesof brie and apples, or for ushummous with tahini anda bottle of chardonnay, carefullypoured into plastic glassesimagining themseles crystal. The dragonflies would ignore us,busy doing…
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an old writer and his words 