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Separate Rooms
Our attempts at demarcation fail at dinner
when the boys return from school,
the air narrows into bands where we retrieve
the second-hand, trying not to stare.
And we listen to our sons for sheer relief,
who chirp of their forays on the basketball court,
or the names of supposed girlfriends which they
trade like baseball cards, neither of which they really know
what to do with.
We eat dinner in the kitchen,
open-hearthed and odorous of cooking
they smell it a mile upon approach
always hungry just arrived from school.
The corn saws at the horizon, the filling
is prepared for cake, and we return to separate rooms again,
seeking no recrimination, but the familiar comforts
of humane desertion.
~Gary D. Smith
He lives in Los Angeles and works with computers. But the time of winters and
summers and leafy autumns Michigan, as a student, still makes him restless to speak. Look for his work on the 'Net and in print.
© 2001 by Gary D. Smith. All Rights Reserved.
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© 2000-2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated April 24, 2002.
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