Come in Come in

Come in Come in


It’s hard to believe she’s never been to Ande Musik,
since so many would-be cultists have followed him
up the stairs. Peace, and the quiet of classical strings
flow around that unbeatable preppy smile, pure face,
yet able to lie, and resorting to lies lately, when the
truth would be so much easier to deal with. She makes
her “second office” debut on a day, third in a row, when
delivered home-made lunch does not arrive, and loving
wife who makes it later wonders whether professor-boy
will be clever enough to get his own lunch. This man will
never be without office again: productivity is a must when,
at 50, nothing has been accomplished. Moonflowers, coffee
cups, untrimmed hedges, and this ever-present wall greet the
lunchtime interlopers who find solace in the lonely weeks
that smash, sometimes grind, stealing energy even in a place
full of youth. Dandelions and sewer stench attract then repel
as she bends to pick. It’s crunch time again. Sand, meant
for the space between bricks piled in your path is evidence
that no gains can be made without solid persistence. This
flower, that garbage, thumping heart, flushed toilet. Teardrops.



Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2008. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.


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