Observations In Lieu Of An Elegy
Scooter Monzingo is dead.
The weather is crisp, the streets
Are exceptionally clean.
His wife is amazed at how
Natural he looks, the way
His fingers gracefully mesh.
It is six o’clock. In Rome,
In a cheap villa, a young
American housewife is
Seducing a gigolo.
She insists his name is Frank.
What an ugly word! Franck thinks.
It is six o’clock. Demure
Millie Hobbes is pawning her
Gramophone. She has plans, big
Plans. Someday her neighbors will
See her and say, Who would have
Thought it? She can hardly wait.
It is six o’clock. Rainstorms
Lash the coast of Uruguay.
In a crowded marketplace,
A slow-eyed senorita
Has begun to menstruate
For the first time. People stare.
If he were alive today,
Scooter Monzingo would say
Move 700 muscles,
Eat over 3 pounds of food,
And breathe. Which is average.
Who could ever imagine this breach
Of sun? Not even the priests
Grazed by the moon and eager
To serve could say for sure. Oh,
They fasted, wept, and prayed. With
The passion of despair, they
Brought hundreds to the knife. Lord,
The stench. Baskets stuffed with soft
Steaming entrails. But nowhere
Was an answer to be found.
Encouraged, then, by what they
Could not see, they counted up
Their blessings in disguise. They
Danced, they sang, they fell back on
Tradition and, praising all
Such miracles of mystery,
They blessed the bloody fields.
After a lengthy career as an executive with Eastman Kodak and Fuji Photo Film, I have returned full circle to my first post graduate job: College Instructor. Although it is certainly intimidating to return to the classroom, it is incredibly rewarding to be able to give back. Poems recently published and accepted for publication in The Sierra Nevada Review, The Stillwater Review, The Outrider Review, River Poets Journal, Falling Star Magazine, and The Tule Review.
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