You even begin to sound like someone else,
He complained, a realtor with a nervous
Tick for instance, someone who hasn't sold
A property in 15 months. On the one hand,
After 17 years of accumulation,
Said the other, you end up like a Xmas grapefruit
In March—I've lived there—sulking for sun,
Rain or something. Yet with the other
You coddle impatience, a tick uder your shirt sleeve...
That raspberry of pain you can't discuss.
The calm before an explanation—
Time ticks for no one. Damn,
Do you remember when people used to talk like that?
Grandfather slouched under an awning
Lighting a cigar, or studying
The length of his tie. He looked
Like one of those detectives in Dallas
When Kennedy was shot
© 2006 Robert VanderMolen
  © New Issues |
  © Paradigm Press |
lives and work in Grand Rapids. He is the author of the collections Breath, Of Pines, and Night Weather |
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