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Their names into the wilderness, in our vanity andAnguish, to summon them from the ether, or to Startle them from the underbrush, where theyHave no business hiding? I’d ask another way. Did the ancestors know that we would whisperTheir names into the ocean curls at dusk or soon After, when the blue water gives way to the void,Cold and black, but still as noisy and full of mystery? They held us as babes, you kno

reprinted with minor edits from Mandala, Vol. 11; St. Louis Park High School; May, 1979 I. “Thumbs, Thumbs, Thumbs?” That’s all I hear. The monotonous, repetitive wailing cry of an armada of rancid soldiers. Three men in Salvation Army uniforms hold me at gunpoint, commanding: “GIVE US THE SECRET TO THE AARDVARK DANCE.” “Will the boxstep do?” I quip. They, with quiet, ruthless efficiency promptly blow my head off. II

Invites the occasional guest To sit by the coffee table and Page through academic journals That are too boring to read Properly. The visitors to my office Are few and far between And generally they camp out elsewhere Or conduct their business quickly. No one tarries in reception For very long. So sometimes I imagine that I will arrive to find You on the couch. Waiting for me, patiently. I greet you warmly And then we

Once at the town swimming pool, When I was a girl, Someone pointed out to me My mother’s high-school boyfriend A blobby man in the water Hair on his back Walrus-like Flopping around I felt no affinity Now I am the mother Of three kids, one merely an infant Plus an ex boyfriend to my credit And a husband who has met expectations Except he drinks too much On the weekends I imagine a reel-to-reel tape recorder Rew

So I am here at this extremely busy And inconvenient international airport, Plenty early for my departure to Mundanetown, U.S.A, To visit family, But lo and behold And similar expressions The departure down the corridor Is nonstop to Buenos Aires, Where we went on our honeymoon All those years ago, before the Divorce, of Course. So I meander over, And find a lounge decked out in Vibrant colors, a South American airli

We were at the party With your friends from work, Nice enough people, But boring, As we agree. Someone said, “Nice shirt, Bill.” You replied, “Yeah, I got it Last month when I was in Miami.” When you said this, you avoided eye contact with me Or at least you did not look at me, maybe by accident, But I think on purpose. Of course, I was with you On the trip in question. So you might have said

I loved you before I was born And I will love you after I am gone. In between, we have our duties and responsibilities And joys and sorrows, and all the triumphs and trophies To celebrate for ourselves, and kith and kin. I gaze at the stars. They are very beautiful. So I think of you. The truth is that the memories Are like old handbills and popcorn sleeves Pressed in the clown’s scrapbook, Waiting for nothing

I have the lab results, Mrs. Nussbaum, and the news is mixed. As we thought, your levels of thyroid hormone are a little low. We could supplement, but I recommend we watch carefully for now. I am more concerned about your cholesterol. It really is too high. Aarrgh! Me beauty! I’ve seen me years in ships at sea and none be as fair as yer lovely self. Avast, Dolores, come sail with me and me hearties! I swear, if any m

  Jerry Herald had been the president of the company, but when our paths crossed his title was Vice President of Internal Corporate Communications and Blah Blah etc. etc. None of us knew exactly what Jerry Herald did all day, although he did seem to do a lot of it. He was always in the building, looking dapper in a three-piece business suit of a kind that no one else wore even in the 1990s. Rumor had it that Jer