Monday, October 22, 2012

Love Thy Neighbor

the continuing saga...

Love Thy Neighbor

(…the names have been changed, to protect the innocent, and the guilty…)

My neighbors all thought I was nuts
When I moved in a year ago
But now that they’ve had time to see
They know I’m nuts
And like me anyway
So it’s all good

………

A neighbor friend came to my door this morning,
And I could tell by the black pin pupils,
That the pain killers and the uppers
Had all kicked in at once.
She was in the middle
Of a very interesting
Paranoid delusion—
Telling me how the world
Was stealing her stuff, or hiding it,
And plotting against her.

“Funny,” I thought, “I don’t need drugs
To be in this same boat with her,
Paddling along life’s stream.”

She wanted me to get in the middle,
And she orchestrated her ideas so skillfully,
That I almost considered it.

But, I finally reneged,
Telling her,

“I’m terminal, girl.
Been diagnosed as a hopeless case.
Untouchable really.
So I have declared
That from now on,
I float peacefully,
Using what energy I have left
To love those who cry out
As I do for peace, and more of it.”

……..

So my neighbors asked me to a fish fry.
I went, and they helped me a big ole plate,
And the food was delicious, all of it!
But the interrogation that followed
Went a little something like this:

“So, you’re writing some type of ‘poetry’ book?”

“Yes, I’m trying,” I mumbled with a mouth full of crappie.

“What kind of poetry is it you write?”

“Is it dirty?” asked another.

“Well, you guys probably wouldn’t think so,” I said, “But some people might.” I thought vaguely about some previous religious acquaintances.

“The cole slaw might be a little dry.”

“I like mine exactly like this,” I said.

“Yeah, it is a little dry.”

“Well, tomorrow it will be just right.”

………………………..

Always so grumpy to my face,
And I have never known why,
But, on your porch at dusk, I catch you—napping.
I watch you there for a calm minute.
Your sixth sense tells you someone is looking.
You wake, flustered. I smell the bourbon.
And it is in this state that you smile at me
And stammer,
“I want to clone you.”

The next day he was grumpy at me again.
I just nodded and smiled.
“Uh huh…”
...........................................


It wasn't a healthy combination.
He liked presents,
And she was a notorious indian giver.
He needed to be swallowed whole,
And she preferred to chew.
He was terrified of abandonment,
And his deep seated insecurities
Drove him to chase insatiably,
While her fear of being engulfed
Pushed her to run endlessly after nothing.

.................................

So they come into the little cafe,
The waitress knows them well.
"Shirley, you want eggs, or oatmeal again this mornin?"
Her husband answers for her,
"She's got her teeth, today,
So it kind of opens up the choices, ya know?"
The woman glowers as she pours her own dang cup of coffee.
"Everybody knows he doesn't carry any money,
I ought to just leave him here," she said.

-jenn long


1 comment:

Anonymous said...

What a great pastiche of images and insight! What you've done here is a poetic equivalent of a documentary, in just a few lines, but just as up close and personal as a camera would be.