| |
|
|
- I feel like
Mr. Watts today
-
- I’m at
home recovering from a hernia
- operation. I
can’t bend
- or drive or do
anything fast
- or lift
anything. I can barely walk.
- The medicine
I’m taking
- has left my
mind dull and thudding.
- I sit in my
bathrobe,
- pajamas and
slippers, looking out
- the front
window
- at the lawn
coming in green,
- at the flowers
and the squirrels,
- deft as
mountain goats,
- and at the
neighborhood cars
- drifting by
like boats in the rain.
- I think of Mr.
Watts
- who lived
across the street
- from us back on
Northfield Avenue
- when I was a
boy.
- He had cancer,
and from the street
- you could see
him sitting there
- in his bedroom
window all day long
- drinking beer
and watching
- the world going
by outside.
- Every time I
would go out
- in the yard I
knew
- good old Mr.
Watts would be there
- watching me
from behind
- the bright
white curtains
- beer can
clutched
- in his fist or
resting on
- the windowsill,
waiting. I suppose
- that’s as
good a way to go as any.
|