 |
|
|
Maybe Nothing Special By William Hardy Email: wchardy61 at yahoo dot com (above email address formatted to reduce spam) April 03, 2008 There were days— These were the plain ones— Where the rhythms of the twilight hours Ran one more time over the groove Etching it just that little bit deeper When our dog with the greyhound head And the we-don't-know-what body— Maybe coyote but with cow hair— Yawped and poked us in sensitive places When we got home And then rowled and peed when my daughter visited This was also when the big screen TV Watched each of us passing back and forth Through our sideways bowling alley sitting room Trying to hook us with shimmering and shouting And three Maybe four computers were humming And Husband Number One said what's for dinner And Daughter Number One cussed about her laundry Which no one had done for her And Daughter Number Two made an appearance To get her homework inspected So maybe next quarter she could have her game privileges restored And my son called from the deck of the Gettysburg And then my mom For an hour and seven goodbye-cycles And all the other dogs And all the cats Worked out their interpersonal dynamics On the pet level It was one of those groove-deepening days Or all of them When I realized I was already Husband Number Two Without ceremony or declaration Or legal standing But with every other weight and grace Of marriage And I looked at you And us And knew it was a good marriage All of us the better for it And we sealed it again that night With the rising and falling of our breathing In our down bed About the author: Some know me as Will, some as Bill, or Dad. I'm already past 45, which I don't believe is possible until I reach for my glasses or think twice before moving large objects. I suspect both of these things are actually the result of having a desk job, which is writing in various guises. I love images, and stories, and I love sound—I think Tom Keith has one of my top five dream jobs. | | | |
First Person Archive Most recent: 2008 July June May April March February January 2007 December November October September August July June May April March February January 2006 December September | |
 |
|
|
