April 18th poem

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Afternoon with Family

Mitchell Hammock Road, I say.  Or Mitchell Hammond Road?

Hammock! Mom replies.  A hammock is like an island in a  swamp!

Mom says, Look at all this construction.  They're building a bunch of stuff exactly like a bunch of other stuff that already exists.

Me:  There's another park.

Mom: That's a vulture! 

Me: Park, Mom.

Mom: I thought you said bird. 

I poke at the buttons to the satellite radio, stopping to listen to the beginning of an Artie Shaw song.  To the four year-old, I say, Do you hear that?  That's the clarinet.  

I don't want to hear the clarinet! he replies.  Why is this clarinet still happening? 

Maybe it was Benny Goodman.

When I was a little boy, my stepfather says decorously, we always ate dinner together, even though we didn't like one another.  Starting out serious, and then veering off.

Frank O'Hara said, Go by feel.  Or was that my mom?

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