No Lightning Bolts

Love at first sight? Most certainly not.
Something akin to shared disdain.
She was blandly attractive, trim, a clone
Of some original mommy somewhere
In a suburb, also, I suppose, a dishwater
Blonde with a ponytail thrust through
A baseball cap, a waste of time, chipper,
Annoying, good with her kids, and
Married, or having been, to a dullard
In tortoise-shell glasses and chino
Pants, an accountant, perhaps, the
Fraternity swain, who had led her to
Leave in her junior year; and her
Tightened jaw made clear that she
Saw me as useless, a layabout, bearded,
Disheveled, a creature from somewhere
Across the way, probably dirty,
Possibly dangerous, seemingly decent
To all his kids, but where is their mother?
Doubtless, gone; no, not love at first sight,
And, stuck with each other two evenings
A week, helping our kids to prepare for some
God-awful science show, we were awkward,
At first, but slowly warmed. I watched,
Amazed by her patience, and how she
Encouraged each child, and offered ideas,
Only suggestions, never commands,
And she seemed, in time, to see that I
Had a way with words. I made little
Jokes, and I liked building mountains
Of paper mache. One night, when we'd
Finished, the kids went to play, and she
Brought out some wine. We drank it
As what had been left of the daylight
Ebbed away. She spoke of her childhood,
I of mine, and we slowly grew closer
Until the kids returned, complaining
They needed to eat. Afterward, always,
The wine after meetings. Later, I'd visit
Each night after dinner, and, now, we
Have dinners and weekends together,
And, if we're apart for more than a day,
I begin to fret, and cannot be calmed
Until she comes into sight.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 24 times
Written on 2011-11-30 at 13:20

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