“It’s raining.”
“Yep.”
“Read me a poem.”
“What?”
“I want to get all comfy-cozy in bed under the sheets and listen to you read me a poem.”
“Umm – okay. Let me just get into my robe and then I need to do a last e-mail check and put the cell phone on charge and –”
“Jesus. Forget I said anything. You fucking ruin it every time.”
“Ruin what?”
“I asked you to read me a poem.”
“And I said I would –”
“—after. After you do this and do that and probably have one last cigarette and another shot of whatever you’re drinking. Go do what you’ve got to do. I’m going to sleep.”
“Goddamnit, Joanne. Fine. Don’t go to sleep. I’ll read you a fucking poem, for shit sake. Which one? From which book?”
“Forget it. I don’t want to put you out.”
“Do you have any idea what kind of a day I had today? I do not need this shit from you right now, Joanne. It looks like the studio is going to change their mind about the script so you can just forget that Malibu summer beach house for now, honey. Pipe dream.”
“I’m sorry.”
“What?”
“I said, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. You haven’t said anything until now.”
“Because you didn’t fucking ask. All you were interested in was some goddamn poem.”
Good one, RJ – I see you’re back to the image of crashing dreams (in the image of a beach house, with crashing waves all tied to the fallen deal).
Another note – great presentation of the clash of the sexes. LOL! Yeah…I think there are few people who haven’t had some conversation that reads this way, that went this “well.”
OK
Two things came to mind. “Fern Hill”
http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/150
or? “Wild Geese”
http://www.rjgeib.com/thoughts/geese/geese.html
That is Mary Oliver.
You are working too hard. I knew it. Don’t.
Please?
I am so grateful I met another brain like yours.
You have no idea, R.
Go here:
http://possibilityoffire.blogspot.com/
I want you to meet another friend. The thing is, they will work you death if they can?
That is what the grid is?
I did it for years. And I still am.
But this man is on a path way ahead of you and I?
Knowing his brain and soul are alive in the universe is a great thing.
At Pacifica, men and women helped each other?
Our generation was equal that way, so I’m really glad you wrote about Popeye. He was one of my faves, ever. But I was so scared of the Goon as a child I had no idea what to do.
Seriously.
Don’t work this hard K?
Popeye and Robinhood have always been my heroes.
xxoo!
xxoo!
Eh, life. Too many convos like this one, huh?
[...] "Yeah, Rain and Poetry." [...]
[...] had its moments of tension as I illustrated in a flash fiction piece for 8763 Wonderland called Rain and Poetry: “It’s [...]