Monday, October 12, 2009

mabel in the dining room

This is the waiting room for final deportation
They are provided desserts, snacks, wine.

She can’t help the smile from smiling when
he asks if she would like some dessert:
Only if you’ve got some maple walnut
hidden away for me somewhere she smiles. It’s as good
as it was 70 plus years ago that rush of
the eyes, the hunger, and sweetness. But everything’s
ruined now gone and changed I’ve gone pretty well downhill
since then she says and the instinct to flirt or at least its
memory, what a curse it is Yes it is!

The smile is white
just from a distance.
The voice is worse:
A turkey’s ponderous
gobble any time of day
no matter the lilt and tease that’s meant I
can’t not want to follow him well my eyes are
alright the problem’s right there now isn’t it the eyes --
he appears from the right in his brown apron
and zips across the room pad in
hand asking Isabelle Are you going to eat
something today And he can’t get away from me.
The eyes are all there, still fifteen damn years old she
complains to herself and the will and the – the instinct are
there I wear sunny clothes sporty things white
jeans fitted and trim; Keds and a yellow sweater.
Sure he noticed them. Who else wears them. Sure he’s
thinking She musta been something back in the day Damn I
can almost see her how she was then and then
my damn throat has to go and squawk a
That’s very kind of you
and blow the moment it’s always just moments she thinks
positioning herself all so delicate slowly now to draw the legs up one by one
into bed delicate moments. He’s alright she thinks and feeds herself
his young pieces hands and legs Sure I can and lips or well, no, or maybe not that
at the last minute she can’t kiss him.

The thought of all those wrinkles holds her back and who can really tell
about their own breath, right, but she still lets her hands
stroke his strong and smooth oh creamy back I can just picture how his you know
feels and suck whatever happens to dangle within reach she thinks
I sure don’t need it with all this ice cream but he might, he yeah, and laughs
or what passes for one these days, a small smile,
head on a pillow that’s always too high by
midnight. Oh my neck is it’s what’s the word it’s as
stiff as his you know what would be – or would it, tormenting
herself would it be with this brown paper bag of a body would he be
you know good or how Lyle was in ’68 with all the insurers on
his back and his guilt and just pet my hair pet politely
dangling dryly But how can I do such a
and how, well I wouldn’t you
know he’s that’s a not in
well not now
anyhow. These meds are something else.

One lunchtime Lorraine even told him You’ve got such
flirty eyes. He grinned. Who wouldn’t, right? But with Doug
sitting right there can you believe can you
believe she would sure he’s half deaf but come
on can you past a certain age no one minds dead honesty though of course
it’s no use by that point, why not can you believe though What if I
paid him to lie here just once naked, why not, he knows how to
put down the ice cream and spoon all in one
swoop, dick just say it already I can’t believe what is happening
to me to say it what if he were to touch me here and say it
here money plenty I’ve say it I can’t really be thinking I’m not Lorraine it’s the
eyes that won’t let him go they just won’t
go dim now no not on him. Not now. Not him.

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