House

By Oxy Mora on Wed, 06/27/2012 - 1:27pm |

Instead of fixing his teeth,

going on a diet,

and quitting the fantasy

that he is

sixteen again,

he is obsessively

projecting upon me

imagined ills, like

a roof needing repair,

and sills slowly decaying.

He has removed 5 tons

of my best wood lath

and plaster,

turning four rooms

into one,

egad,

exposing

to the light of day

my eight by eight hemlocks,

I feel quite quite dressed down.

In vain I tried

to teach him---

by a well-timed draught,

a soothing rumble

in the attic, or

a door suddenly slammed---

that I was meant

to care for him,

not the other way around.

2028 reads

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An unexpected pleasure. I had clicked expecting a discussion of the House vote tomorrow on holding Eric Holder in contempt, and instead got this sweet poem.

Thanks.

P.S. Just in case ...

by MrSmith1 on Wed, 06/27/2012 - 11:16pm

Thanks, Mr. Smith. I enjoyed your graphic. I'm not sure that Democrats walking out of the House, as is expected, is going to be a great image.

About the poem, if you've ever lived in an old house you can come to believe it has it's own soul. On the slamming door, this actually happened. A lady friend and I were having one of those crazy arguments which could have led to a quick trip to the airport and another failed relationship. Just at the moment a door swung completely shut and startled both of us as there was no draft, etc. Within a few minutes we had regained our sanity and went out to dinner.

by Oxy Mora on Thu, 06/28/2012 - 1:24pm

House

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