a poem
Ooh, I bet you were wondering if I was going to be the poet behind the poem, like I'm suddenly in an introspective/pretentious writer-mode because life doesn't make sense and I need to get my feelings communicated...no way. Those could be quotes from my mom, btw. This is one of my favorite poems that I once had to memorize in college. It's by Ted Kooser, who also writes a lot about beer.
Anniversary
At dinner, in that careful rouge of light
of five or six martinis, you could pass
for Ginger Rogers; we could dance all nignt
on tiny tabletops as slick as glass
in flying, shiny shoes. As Fred Astaire,
my wrinkes grow distinguished as we dine,
my bald spot festers with the growth of hair,
I grow intelligent about the wine.
But such high life is taxing; urgencies
excuse us from the table. Hand in hand
we seek the restrooms, trembling at the knees,
and find our grins grown horrid in that land
of flare-lit, glaring mirrors. Through the wall
you flush your toilet like a lonely call.
I hope my anniversaries are more "glamorous, romantic ballroom dancing" and less "sad, drunken disconnection pees."
posted by SES @ 8:03 PM
1 Comments:
Word on the street is you want to go to Uppities on your Bday/will's homecoming. T/F?
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