Oh, dinner
Could have been the Geisha I drew
with a blue crayon, the children and I
shared a green and a blue one,
doodled on the table cloth, all of us chattered,
ate bread, waited for entrée's, celebrated
gramm's birthday.
The couple next to us tried discreetly
to study my blue Geisha, passed along
their awkwardness, the woman, sad,
stared into each face at our table,
the man, silent, as if to say—don't be so
obvious.
She made me uncomfortable, when our food
arrived, watched us devour it.
After—the bus boy took our dishes, I studied
the sad woman, the indifferent man, their lack
of harmony. Her sadness settled in long ago,
he rose, went to the bathroom without excusing himself,
she didn't notice, just drank wine instead.
And I thought I saw her memories, tragedies,
their emptiness on the legs of the wine and even after,
when we were leaving, my wife's uncle asked me
if I'd noticed her pale skinned Eastern European features,
her elegance. I remarked how she appeared sullen,
he replied he hadn't noticed that.
|
15
favs |
378 views
19 comments |
190 words
All rights reserved. |
Author's Note
This poem was born out of observation. Sometimes I think Milosz said it all when he called poets, reporters.
Other stories by Roberto C. Garcia
Tags
This story has no tags.
Groups
-
Poets and Artists
Public group76 members -
Poetry
Public group159 members -
LITSNACK, an on-line literary journal
Public group102 members -
New York City
Public group103 members -
Ramshackle Review
Public group50 members -
Electric Literature
Public group223 members -
Monkeybicycle
Public group257 members -
Word Riot
Public group175 members -
f o u r p a p e r l e t t e r s
Public group33 members -
Metazen
Public group129 members -
Prairie Schooner
Public group74 members -
WAG (Writers Across Genres)
Public group34 members
Oh, what a sad tale. I can feel this woman. Very nice, Roberto. *
Excellent, Roberto. I'm there.
Clean, clear, no excess, no frills. What good writing is all about. If writers are all reporters, you ought to apply to the NY Times. *
Nice, very very nice. That you brought in blue gave this poem the feel of a Picasso in his blue period.
*
Everything is perfectly staged and timed here, the characters perfectly staged and moving in relation to one another to reveal what is beneath. *
Thank you everyone for your wonderful comments. The couple in question really moved me that evening. It was also an eye opener as to how we as people see things differently.
Thanks again. Glad you all enjoyed it.
Wonderfully done, Roberto. There is a wise perception and sensitivity to the voice here. Fine read, brutha.
Breaks my heart. Why don't we care? That's the question asked here. Your poem is a fine answer.
Like this.
I think this is beautiful, as much for what is unsaid as how you say it.
Beautiful, Roberto.
what a lovely, yet sad poem.
One happy family, two others,
not caring, just watching and I'm sure wishing.
I just re-read the poem and I gotta say: WOW. Chills up the arms. That's what happens to me when a poem truly moves me. I love the lack of pretense here, this is a poem in its brutal form of love.
already *
Love the juxtaposition between the two tables. And your comment sums it all up: it is all about observation, and that is what makes all of our writing so marvelous--we each see what we each see, and each vision is a poem. Thank you for yours. Peace*
Thanks everyone!
The wife's uncle having a different perspective strengthens the ending while injecting additional meaning onto the poem. Well done.*
Enjoyed, Roberto.
Oh, the subtlety! I love this kind of poem. The little in between moments that others might not notice, but for the person who experiences it, such a complete story. Wonderful.
Beautiful.