Every So Often

He asked if she would come with him.
She can't remember where it was,
Someplace in South America. He
Called, the only time he did, on such
An afternoon as this, a bleary sky.
It wasn't cold. She hadn't seen
Him in a month. He told her he
Had done alright, and, if she came
With him, he'd get her anything
She'd want. "I can't," she said,
No more than that, and he, not
Sounding disappointed, simply
Said, "okay," and then goodbye.

She met him in a hash house on
The avenue which runs between
The metal shops and railroad
Sidings, places canning food.
She served lunch and dinner
To the grubby men who worked
Nearby. He clearly wasn't
One of them. Older, cleaner,
Nicely dressed in polo shirts
And well-matched slacks, he
Came in once, then every day.
He'd stay until the crowd had
Thinned. When things were
Slow, she'd talk to him. He
Said, "I think I love you," once,
But never asked for anything
Which wasn't on the menu.
Actually, he didn't ask for
Much from off of that. She
Grew to like him quite a lot
Because he listened, and he
Flattered her by coming just
To be around her every day,
But, finally, she had to leave.
She needed better pay.

So much time has passed so
Quickly. She got married to
Her high-school sweetheart
And they had two kids. They
Live out in the suburbs, and
Her life is good. It really is,
But, sometimes, when the sky
Is bleary and the weather
Isn't cold, she suddenly
Remembers him, and how he
Asked if she would come.
Still not sorry that she stayed,
She pictures him and hopes
He's happy. No one in his
Family would have known
To tell her he is dead.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 69 times
Written on 2015-09-08 at 22:42

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