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Re-visiting Got Poetry
Re-visiting Got Poetry
I received an email from John Powers recently asking about my next Got Poetry column. Since I haven’t contributed a column to GP since October ’06, I took John’s email as a gentle tugging on my creative drawstrings.
I didn’t write much at all in 2007; Life wrote its own melodrama.
I lost my younger brother in February, my Dad in April, and my job of fourteen years in August. From September through December, two kidney-stone procedures and rotator-cuff surgery were the featured attractions. In the past, I’ve twisted personal experiences into somewhat humorous fodder for my writings. In ’06, Life just left me pen-less.
Okay, I’m exaggerating a bit. I still wrote a monthly column for Central Mass Magazine (the stipend paid for breakfast specials) and wise-assed a few poems now and then like the following:
Random Comments and My Witty Responses at Dad’s Wake
* He looks so good.
* You should have seen him 5 days ago when he was breathing.
* We heard he died in the car coming back from Foxwoods. Did he win?
* Don’t know. Let’s rifle his pockets and run to the nearest Keno bar.
* Remember me? I worked with your father 40 years ago at Stop & Shop.
* I was 12. You had hair and was 70 pounds lighter. Of course, I remember you.
* He’s been gone 5 days. I’m surprised it’s an open casket.
* We tried to close it but Dad’s claustrophobic.
* Was Dad a Yankees fan?
* No, he loved the Red Sox. The New York insignia on the coffin-lining and the Yankees’ cap and jacket he’s wearing are my ultimate revenge.
* Was your father an organ donor?
* Dad bought a piano years ago then gave it to my brother. Does that count?
Random Thoughts When You’re Unemployed
There’s a pile of crap sitting on the top of the four-foot hedge in front of our house. My theories on the Excrementor include: a dog the size of a sphinx; one of my neighbors bought a Clydesdale; ex-employees have finally found where I live.
When you’re unemployed, you call people up who have jobs and wait for them to call you back. Then you get pissed because they don’t. Then you remember when you had a job , you did the same thing for 37 years.
I saw an advertisement in Rolling Stone magazine for a product that “styles your hair messy”. You have to wonder about a culture where even being “slovenly” is contrived
The same magazine had an ad for “wider cigarettes”. I can see the creative team huddled around the conference table: “Hey guys I’ve got a great idea, let’s make these freakin’ cancer-sticks fatter!”
More and more, I notice people my age manning the kiosks at shopping malls, the drive-up at Wendy’s, the valets at fancy restaurants. It’s a tad disconcerting.
I make myself breakfast now every morning. “Generic Frosted Flakes”, T-h-e-y-r-e…okay.
There’s absolutely nothing on T.V between the hours of 11-4pm. Absolutely freakin’ nothing… except reruns of The Big Valley. Linda Evans on a horse still gives me an instant chubby.
When I walk to the unemployment office in downtown Worcester, I notice all the people rushing by gritting their teeth. I just smile, my 6 months’ severance-pay smile.
I’m shaving every other day, trying to get that Tom Brady/Patrick Dempsey sexy, stubble-look. It just makes me itchy.
I miss my brother and Dad a great deal. I don’t miss the hours and pressures of managing a supermarket but other opportunities haven’t been forthcoming, so to paraphrase Michael Corleone “ Just when I think I’m out, they drag me back in!”
I registered for the MTEL’s in March, so ideally I can find a job and go back to school at the same time. I’d like to teach down the road, maybe creative writing (I can feel the brows of Worcester’s academia furrow!).
What have I done with all my spare time? For the first time in 30 years, I had the day before and after Christmas off. I appreciated my family. I sought professional counseling trying to avoid the depression I sunk into in ’98. I read a self-improvement book that told me to begin each day by shouting ‘I am terrific!’ 20 times into the bathroom mirror. I avoided mirrors.
My wife’s slogan for the New Year is “Things will be great in ’08!” I’m not about to argue with that.
I thank the readers of Got Poetry for your support of my stuff in the past. Hopefully, we can see more of each other this year. Here’s something new:
Whine Country
She’s had a few too many,
the signs are all there:
She’s actually taking an interest in what you have to say;
She’s trying to enunciate big words like “extrapolate”
and voice opinions on major geopolitical issues;
She’s finger-tipping your left thigh and threatening a neck massage.
You know it’s the Merlot,
that dark, husky fruit of the gods.
Otherwise, it would be business as usual:
Nice dinner, some small-talk, television.
You pour her another glass,
trying to balance your hormones with keeping her conscious.
It’s one too many;
Next time, Zinfandel.
Take care. Joe Fusco Jr. (the former Bard of Aisle 9)
Submitted by bardofaisle9 on Tuesday, January 15, 2008 (20:30:50) (1108 reads)
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Re: Re-visiting Got Poetry
(Score: 1 )
by chameleon on Tuesday, January 15, 2008 (19:49:08) |
Welcome back Joe! We missed you. Things will be great in 08 - they gotta be better, right?
Love the last piece - Zinfandel is always better.
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