they don’t say more than three words to each other all day.
it starts with an impenetrable barrier
of sports page at the breakfast table,
him behind it.
in front, buttered toast and grapefruit halves in common.
fifty three years of sports pages and buttered toast and grapefruit halves.
it moves into mid morning with him raking leaves,
and her finishing up the crossword puzzle.
three letters, George Gershwin’s brother.
same clue as tuesday’s puzzle.
same leaves as yesterday he seems to be raking.
if there’s a point it’s been forgotten.
lunch is taken like clockwork.
he naps,
she walks.
he walks,
she naps.
she’s up, and the dryer is spinning the clothes she fed
the washing machine.
he’s off to the post office, buying stamps and feeding
the parking meter.
the kids call. or not. mostly not. not enough anyhow.
meatloaf makes way for evening news,
they read their respective books,
in their respective chairs,
under their respective lamps.
sleepy eyes, drooping heads.
bedtime.
he pulls the quilt up, makes sure it covers her.
it might get chilly,
and kisses her softly.
‘love you darling.’
‘love you darling,’
she replies,
and turns out the light.
Good. A convinving portrayal of an “institutionalised” couple.
thanks chimneysweep. but i know this ‘institutionalized’ couple. they experience their love in a way the rest of us can only pray for…
Hi rainey,
I like this, especially the ending:
The first part of the piece depicts what appears to be a lonely, sad couple. However, this ending sheds light on their true relationship.