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Dark Poetry #3
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Commitment
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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Commitment |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn 
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Commitment We were both well seasoned, aware of the ins and outs of life with others, experience mined from bitter veins. We had both been married too young, too long. Independently of one another we had both spent some time “specializing” in nineteen year olds and developed similar outlooks. “They come and they go” she said. “I like to see them come and like to see them go” said I. We were jaded and tired of their earnestness, their gullibility and their naiveté. We were ready for a challenge. We were ready, to take on each other. So, I moved into her place, and our union was celebrated throughout our adopted town. Their sons and daughters, it appeared, were now safe. And it was good. She pretended to fall for my “lay down, I want to talk to you” line. When told “I bet you taste like strawberries” she squealed and clapped like a youngster. No games, we had played them all. No lies, who are you kidding? No money, can’t fight about it. Tab “A” and slot “B” got along famously We had been public enough in our indiscretions that we had no secrets. Or so I thought. We were together only a few days When early one morning (for us, at least) I was awakened by loud shrieking screams causing me to flystumblefall downstairs to discover Yoko Ono blaring from my stereo, and my new love in the kitchen. Attired in a ratty robe and old sneakers, seated at the kitchen table, head in hands, elbows on the table. staring into the quarter full jelly jar, that stood close by the half full bottle of Old Granddad. “Bad morning?” I inquired. An evil and baleful stare found its’ way out of her hair veil and into the part of me that understands fear. When her eyes returned to their whiskey victim, she explained, too calmly and in clipped enunciation, how every trimester in her Lunar calendar brought to her (and now, to me) a physical hell that could only be placated by 86 proof and sing-along with Yoko. “So”, I said sweetly, as I slowly reached for the whiskey, “where do we keep the glasses?”. ~wranx "Writing is a perfectly natural thing to do....just remember to wash your hands afterward"....Heinlein. |
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| © Copyright 2002 E.F.Rose - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Purity Senior Member
since 2001-11-20
Posts 526Once Upon, USA |
I sincerely have been humbled by this epitome of your best, wranx. You totally outdid anything I would have imagined possible with this one, which is definitely a favorite of all, truly. "well seasoned", "aware", "Independently", "specializing", "jaded", "games", "screams", "belated"enunciation", "placated", "slowly"... even "ratty". Word choice was a proof of controlled creative intelligence. Here Here! |
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deep_thought Junior Member
since 2002-06-28
Posts 24 |
"No games, we had played them all. No lies, who are you kidding? No money, can’t fight about it." This part simply blew me away. And I LOVED the ending. Actually, I LOVED the beginning, too.And....while we're on the topic, I really LOVED the middle.  Excellent piece. "Love is trust Love is smell Love is how you treat someone well under pressure." |
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arthur Senior Member
since 2001-08-14
Posts 678england |
if you cant beat them might as well join them arthur |
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devina Member Elite
since 1999-10-28
Posts 3539Cali |
RIGHT ON!!! Judgement is a harsh thing... I love your agreement here!!! Was gonna reply yesterday, but my computer had damn fit...  loved this... Open arms can be the most fragile in the world... |
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wranx Member Elite
since 2002-06-07
Posts 3689Moved from a shack to a barn |
I had a 15 year go with this one. She is still my favorite person. (We understand one another) ~wranx "Writing is a perfectly natural thing to do...provided it's done in private and you wash your hands afterward"....Heinlein. |
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