Sunday, August 20, 2017
The Love Profession
Roman filled Samantha's
desire as to his professions
of love.
Ubiquitous. Continuous.
In times of her severest need,
flooding!
Thus stood he as model to
indifferent men who really
would rather watch the Giants.
And the presents! Usual milestones
but also surprises aplenty!
She never knew when some jazzy
trinket would be delivered!
Her stock of such could start
a small...well. Gift Shop.
Or as our New England friends
might devise:
Ye Smalle Gifte Shoppe.
Anyway, her ultimate reaction?
Cast him off as too smothering.
"I couldn't breathe! I need a space FOR...!
Book-gifted him, though, in the trauma.
"Become the Bad Boy!"
by Carlotta Anthony.
“seven seemingly infantile steps to...”
Labels: bad boy, breakup, emotional need, football, Giants, lovers'' gifts, professions of love, relationship
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Matters of Privacy
Denham kept to himself. Fact known in the small
apartment house.
But the twin sisters brought him a rice pudding, a
custom, they explained, on this day of St Ambrose,
the Grocer.
Much girlish amusement as to nothing ever done
for St Ambrose the Good!
In that relatively warm, if ecclesiastical, atmosphere,
Denham made tea.
When you got the twins on your hands, this the
quickest way to get rid of them.
He promised to return the bowl, but they said
no hurry. So he washed and polished it over a
week, to give the gossips no ammunition.
Then, stored it a bit, next to his Giants mugs.
For Deirdre, the twin with the shooting eye, had died.
He made his way to her viewing in their apartment,
hoping to be the last.
He was, and at the end mentioned the bowl to Destiny,
who blinked and blinked claiming it wasn't important
for now.
Denham took a deep breath, in preparation for his
escape, but when he got his hand on the doorknob,
it just tuned and turned in a lumpy circle.
No use calling Arthur, who was resting his bad back
and wouldn't come anyway.
She closed Deirdre's coffin and put on popcorn.
Announcing both that they were two adults, and that
there would be no silly mourning prohibitions either,
including not watching the Giants and Eagles in the
Thursday night game just starting.
Labels: apartment house, death, Eagles, eccentrics, football, funeral, funeral customs, Giants, gossip, loneliness, saints, sex, twins
Saturday, April 25, 2015
His Bell
You couldn't report yourself as missing.
Someone had to miss you, and wonder where
you've gotten to, and, of course, seek the help
of the police.
He went about, expecting a cruiser's stopping,
its blue light spinning down to still.
He had dropped his wallet, probably watching
Omar and Celeste in the new ape enclosure.
Had climbed an old fretwork that the apes had
formerly used, but now outside their fancy one.
Nobody turned it in to Lost and Found.
Just as well, since he forgot his name, and someone
would surely have asked, thence checking driver's license.
Ricky and Elinor, God's New Gifts absolutely, took him
home and fed him, tried questions to jog his memory.
No go.
That night they went to Lefty's Paradise to watch
Giants-Eagle on TV.
There the Professor guessed he had graduated Harvard,
and his fresh companion, the ex chorus boy, opined he
had the quickness of an athlete or dancer.
“Good and healthy and strong!” remarked Sudsy, who
hired him on the spot to unload trucks, flu having swept
his small firm.
Strictly under the table, since no Social Security number.
So he had found friends, a neighborhood, a hangout,
and a job!...and a name, Chauncey, bestowed by the Professor.
Not bad for his first disconcerting day.
That late night on the daybed gracing the sun porch,
he tried to fit some things together.
No use, but he replayed the football game in acutest detail.
Maybe that was kind of key?
Beatrice got interested in his story. She despatched trucks,
and started bringing him lunch. They dated, and eventually
he left his cozy daybed for her cramped studio apartment.
“Believe me, Chaunce fills it up without yours truly!”
Beats had season tickets for the Jets, but had promised them
to others in her family, but not for any playoff games.
The Bengals coming in for the first round got Chauncey so
excited he could hardly speak.
The old man checking the ticket with some sort of wand cried,
"Buzz Ackley! and they couldn’t find YOU better seats than THESE?"
Ripper Collins later sought him out with his mike for the Jumbotron.
..."But I'm not sure I'm he."
"Well, I'm sure! That ‘he’ gives it away: Pure Yalie!"
He took him down to the field and the young players, of course,
couldn't recognize him, but the twin gray-bearded trainers,
Hip and Bix, hugged him together, and massaged his shoulders.
She worked her laptop that evening. "You live in Nutley," she
told him, "18 Appletree Lane, wife Cindy, girl at Trenton State,
boy in Air Force."
They drove there next day, and Cindy fainted.
Detectives Markham and Pesticci were present, making sure that
Beats’ cautious phone call to Cindy wasn’t a con, and knew how to
revive her. Too, they swabbed his mouth for DNA. They explained
that they kept his case from the media since they believed it
involved the Mafia taking over sports memorabilia.
“We expected you were wearing a cement overcoat at the bottom
of a polluted pond in The Meadowlands somewhere.”
Cindy proved completely sure, and needed no DNA, so Beats left.
In a couple of weeks, Buzz recalled almost everything, and the
couple invited Beats back. Cindy told her she'd love her forever!
She became Aunt Beats at Christmas etc. to the youngsters
back from college and the Air Force.
Cindy, strangely, never had a jealous bone.
All the characters in this story of forgetting are pretty
unusual.
Buzz has more than his share of where did I put my...?
but functions appropriately enough for his age.
The League is kicking in to a fund to help those like him.
“I do remember every SINGLE time on the field that my bell
was truly rung!”
Labels: Bengals, characters, DNA, Eagles, football, forgetting, friends, Giants, Jets, Meadowlands, NFL, relationship, wife
Friday, February 28, 2014
Friends at Life and Football
On Cell
-Twenty birds outside my window on a wire. One turns around
to face the other way.
-That’s you.
-That’s me.
-What did it get you?
-Not!
a!
fuckin!
thing!
-So? Why persist?
-Endless loop. If I blow the circuit, I destroy the entire world!
-What a responsibility!
-Thus, I’m odd bird for everybody.
-I’ll never again accuse you of being a selfish, egotistical,
totally scattered son of a bitch!
-Amen amen I say to you that if a man repenteth of judging
his friend...
-Then both will pig out on beer and pizza. Kickoff at Eight!
-...and farteth! there will be Giants in the earth at this time!
-And playing the Eagles! And, I definitely wouldn’t leave
the artisan farting out.
-Our trademark.
-True...but we’ve lost women thereby.
-One thing and another.
Labels: Eagles, female, football, friends, Giants, male, sports bar, young men
Sunday, December 08, 2013
Customs Far and Wide
Learning His Way
Link-Lunk removed all the athletic memorabilia from his
bedroom, and hung old carpets from the cellar on the
windows. All to approximate the feeling of his cell on
Alderah, where everyone slept thus individually.
He only met Bartley once, as he left for college, but disliked
his feigned warmth.
Many other rooms were available in the huge rambler of
a house, but Mrs Hessel had recommend snug hominess
for Link-Lunk.
There were, of course, no rules in his cell, but scores of
them outside.
None whatsoever on Alderah. Everyone knew how to behave.
When one slipped up, he or she acknowledged it, and apologized
to the next person met.
Sex made all possible. It never intruded on cells, but
everywhere else, yes. Young men and women simply went
at it, any location.
“Who are fathers of the inevitable babies?” he's asked here.
Nobody asks that on his planet, nor cares. The babies
are simply adored.
Well, again, he must familiarize himself with the rules
towards all of that too.
He had already tripped up, the next-door Slaney girl sunbathing.
“I'm afraid he rather leapt on her,” explained Mr Hessel to
Patrolman Max Webberly.
Link-Lunk didn't realize there had been trouble, the girl quickly
enough getting into the spirit, but Mrs Slaney unfortunately
glimpsed them from a severely curtained window.
Patrolman Webberly couldn't have been nicer. Explaining
privately what a sex crime was. And, noting that most of the
town was full of shit, anyway, invited Link-Lunk to a football
game of the New York Giants.
Similar rituals were held on Alderah, the population insane
for them. “Crush the sponges from St Louis!” he roars into
the dark.
“I’m afraid I made a rather friend!” he brags later to Mr Hessel,
starting to employ those favored words as a mark of respect.
Labels: alien, Giants, planet, sex, sex customs
