Thursday, April 14, 2011

Another Parentish Poem

You’re Gettin’ There

After five summers of foot-messenger days
and countless 4 a. m. pots of joe over
hastily written studies of single lines,
after wandering drunk and American through
Bolivian, Portuguese, Indian shanty towns, dust
sopping my collagens, after millions of meetings
between my jogger’s knees and pot-holed asphalt roads,
after weeks of meetings in laminate conference rooms,
discussing plans still at doodle stage,
after thousands of months aboard commuter trains
smelling of backed-up porta-john and rancid pizza,
after five servings of fennel sausage and fake crab meat
at each of ten annual family feasts,
after twenty-one walk-up flats, one co-op, one condo,
one private house and two upstate vacation plots,
after two gerbils, four guinea pigs, a goldfish,
a ferocious Persian cat, five thousand walks
of a fluffy dog with inch-long fangs and attitude,
after three squally marriages and four overcast live-in trysts,
after two years of hormone injections
and an adoption across three continents,
after the endless discovery of poopie diapers,
after the same three episodes of a pre-school puppet show
over and over again, after a majority of sex-less months
and resignation to limited success
my mother eyes my gray strands, creased cheeks, blank eyes
and announces, “You’re gettin’ there.”


  1. Very well captured. Having taken a number of commuter train rides over the past few days, I'm especially enamored of your descriptions of the sights and smells that attend the daily travel grind. That and the endless repeating of the same mundane children's program will strike a chord in anyone in similar straits. So well done!

  2. Thanks, Matt. Knowing you and having read your work, I take that as a huge compliment.


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