Alone?

Alone at night watching the Cubs play the Padres in Chicago, I put one eye on a poem.

Selecting a Reader

First, I would have her be beautiful,

and walking carefully up on my poetry

at the loneliest moment of the afternoon,

her hair still damp at the neck

from washing it. She should be wearing

a raincoat, an old one, dirty

from not having money enough for the cleaners.

She will take out her glasses, and there

in the bookstore, she will thumb

over my poems, then put the book back

up on its shelf. She will say to herself,

“For that kind of money, I can get

my raincoat cleaned.” And she will.

Ted Kooser, as found in Poetry 180 edited by Billy Collins

Fuck. I’m not alone anymore.

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Published in: on June 2, 2008 at 10:43 pm  Leave a Comment  

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