|
Home
Winter
2010
Autumn
2009
Summer
2009
Spring
2009
Autumn
2008
Summer
2008
Spring/Summer
2008
Winter/Spring
2008
Editor's
Note
Guidelines
Contact |
Three
Poems
by
Michael Estabrook
Lunch
with Steve from high school
Hadn’t
seen Steve in 40 years,
but we found each other on
Facebook
and here we are at lunch, catching up.
We
were in the History Club together
and had a couple gym classes
together,
but our memories are so barren,
barren as the
moon.
“So what do you remember about Patti?”
I
ask him as he bites into his hamburger.
Patti was my high
school sweetheart,
the incredible girl I married.
“Patti?
Oh, she was one of the prettiest girls
in the class.” I
love hearing that sort of thing.
She’s always been so
beautiful to me,
but when other guys say it,
I get so
pleased and proud that she is mine.
“Did you
talk to her much back then,
ever say anything to her?”
I
prod him for memories.
“Oh, no,” he responds
immediately,
“I could never have done that.”
I
know exactly how he felt.
And it’s just as I thought,
her beauty
actually kept the other guys away.
And for the
life of me I can’t figure out
how I ever got the
courage
to ask her out in the first place,
let alone to ask
her to go steady with me
on our very first date.
“Bravest
thing I ever did in my whole life,”
I declare to Steve,
who nods his head in agreement.
“Yes, I’m sure it
is, Mike, I’m sure it is.” |
|
Her
arms around my neck
There was that
time way back
in high school when she sprained
her
Achilles’ tendon
and couldn’t attend classes.
So
I brought her homework home for her
and we studied
together.
And I carried her around,
her arms around my
neck,
from the living room
to the den, from the den
to
the kitchen and back to the living room again.
“I
thought it was nice not being able to walk
as long as you were
by me.
Bet your arms hurt today
from carrying me around.
Well
you shouldn’t have done it – though I liked
it,”
she wrote to me later.
I liked it too
of course.
It’s not every day you get
to carry a
goddess around in your arms. |
|
Blind
Date
“I’ve never been on a
blind date,” I state,
feeling a mixture of pride and
sorrow.
“I haven’t either,” my wife responds
immediately,
looking away from the TV screen.
I
look at her to see if she is kidding.
But she isn’t.
“Yes
you have,” I say. “You’ve been on a blind
date.”
A quizzical look crosses her face.
“In
college, remember,
when you decided you needed to date other
guys.”
“Oh that. I forgot all about that.”
“So
you’re one up on me,” I continue,
“seeing as
I’ve never been on a blind date
and you have.” I
guess it is pride I’m feeling.
I’ve never had to
resort to a blind date
like my wife has.
“Yup, I’m
one up on you, ha, ha,” she kids me,
turning her
attention back to the TV.
Of course I can’t
help but reflect
on how that blind date of hers, a date she
dismisses
out of hand, that ha ha blind date of hers,
was
actually the worst day of my entire life.
The day she sent me
away
so she could spend the day with another guy,
the day I
could have lost her,
the most beautiful woman I have ever
known.
I guess the laugh’s on her
though,
because her stupid blind date was a fiasco
and she
ended up stuck with me forever, poor thing. |