May 24, 2002

 mfinley.com   
"Two onetime poets"

by Michael Finley
(c) 2002, all right reserved

Two onetime poets are sit in an idling car in south Minneapolis, late Friday night. Steady rain dapples the windshield.

"So what was the worst thing you ever said?"

"I was in a funeral reception line, and by the time I got to the grieving widower, all I could think to say was 'Hey, Verne, nice to see you.' I think about it almost every day, twenty years later. And every time, I cringe."

"Geez, I did some dumb things. The worst -- no wait, that wasn't so bad. The worst was definitely what I did to a girlfriend in the 70s. We were young and very hot and having a terrific time. And I ruined it all one day by telling her the problem with us was that she wasn't smart enough."

"You’re kidding."

"I'm serious. I got her some books to read and went hitch-hiking. I was quite sure I'd found a solution to the age-old problem of women not being smart enough for their poet boyfriends."

"So what did she do?"

"She read about half a book, then got really mad, and I was gone."

The wipers slap away the errant rain.

"What is it about young men poets? I used to just show up at women's doors unannounced."

"You just dropped by?"

"I lived 1000 miles away. It was like, I couldn’t pick up the phone and say, 'Hey, I wanna visit with you.'"

"That would have ruined everything."

"No, it had to be like Jesus risen from the tomb."

Silence. The headlights of another car swerves at the end of the street, and is gone. More silence.

Finally: "God, were we the stupidest men on the planet, or what?"  

mfinley.com 
_{COPYRIGHT (c) 2001
by MICHAEL FINLEY}