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Archive for April 28th, 2010

By William Doreski

Your house looks half-demolished.
Workmen stare at piles of lumber.
Windows blinded with plywood
suggest utter ruin within.
Chimney’s down. A palette of fresh
pink brick reclines on the lawn.
I wouldn’t have planned to visit

if I’d known your remodeling
would render your house so awkward.
Yet you prance across the lawn
like a stoned ballerina and hug
so hugely my eyes pop. Maybe
this visit will improve upon
the last, when at the yacht club

we toppled drunk into the harbor
and nearly drowned. The workmen,
snickering, pack their tools and depart
for greasy meals at the diner,
beer at the VFW, quarrels
with their wives. We enter
your torn-up house and I discover

doorways enlarged to accommodate
a king-sized bed. I flop on it
and drowse while you pour red wine,
an instant transfusion. The room
whirls and you turn out the light.
Thanks to the plywood windows
the dark is absolute. The bed

wallows and I struggle to hold on.
Wind sings in the chimney-hole.
I like your renovations. The cries
of some distant fun-loving couple
racket through the neighborhood
and we laugh because through plywood
they sound like dinosaurs mating.

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