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STAGES
Ten
years ago he was at the Grammys.
Not only there, but he and his mates
Performed their summer hit
In front of legends, idols, peers and millions of
fans.
As
we worked late in a downtown office,
I couldn't help but ask, "what happened?"
What went wrong?"
"Nothing," he said. "Nothing."
Then he turned and resumed the work he was there to do
. . .
THE PROFESSOR'S DAUGHTER
At
first it was considered a phase,
But now it has become a crisis.
It has been three years since high school
and still no talk of college.
All catalogues left of the coffee table are
overlooked;
all campuses mentioned over dinner are ignored.
You
can't be a waitress all your life, she's told.
Why not? I enjoy it!
Enjoyment won't last forever.
You need to make plans
You need to think ahead.
It
was thinking ahead that got her to accept tenure at
29.
It was thinking ahead that got her to put her bohemian
dreams on hold
And leave Paris for another time.
Ever since, she has been kept grateful for what she
has;
And distracted for what she longs for.
Now she's got just four years till retirement
And then (and only then) she'll speak her mind.
But
in the meantime,
She's just got to go away to school
And start learning things she may find useful
And stop teaching others what they already know.
AWAY
Tired of walking;
Tired of looking for someplace interesting to eat in.
Then the golden arches of McDonald's greet us in the
dark, deserted downtown
Like Mamma from the skies.
Before we left, we promised we would only do things we
couldn't in New York:
No bagels, no movies, no rows.
Now we were being tested, teased and tempted.
And we succumbed.
We
agreed that on the morrow we would look for the
strange all over again
But for now let's just feast of the familiar.
That's where our intimacy came from in the beginning.
Dermot is an Irish-born but NYC-based poet and teacher
of young students. His first chapbook, Welcome to
Democracy, was published by CafeMo press in 2001. |