a very old poem – In the Company

In the Company

 

The letter slot did its thing

and over Darjeeling Tea I read your letter.

 

His name is Joe,

and your daughter is Maude.

 

And everything’s fine.

Your hadnwriting hasn’t changed.

 

He plays golf, tennis, 

was a swimmer on the team in school,

that’s high and post secondary too.

 

The shine of it all comes through

like the polished steel water, sun

drilling the brain through the eyes.

 

He’s an accountant.

 

I’ve been driving a cab this winter,

getting a few parts in good shows that don’t run.

Writing the fourth draft of my novel,

wearing sweaters in the room,

eating soup,

just fine.

 

(December 1979)

this is one of my early attempts at narrative poetry

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