Thursday, March 09, 2006

Merlot Colored Bay

Hey everyone,
Please read this and tell me what you hear. I am not sure if I have told the story in an understandable way. Does it make sense? Does it feel natural? If you wnated to know more, what would you ask? If you wanted to know less, what would I take out. Sorry for the typos. I wish I were drunk when I wrote this one.
Matt (Hadji)

The Merlot Colored Bay

Hello? Robert—she didn’t make it, she
Couldn’t keep on, hello? Hello? No,
I am still here. We need you to come
To sit with us, you are most
Important to her, come, please.

And when it was all over, the city
Became an unbearable place,
The spontinaiety, the noise, the contrast
Of lights in the dark part of night
And the anonymitity once enjoyed
Made him a refugee among people
Not in community, not together.

He sold the loft, left work, left the city
and aired out the cottage up North
On the lake, opened windows
to the spring sun and grass
made for croquet and bocce. He repaired
the sailboat, and the neighbor’s boat,
and Henry’s rowboat
received a new coat of varnish, until
The lawn on the west side of the house
Faded to a khaki color from all the boats
Park to receive some nursing, because
That is what he knew how to do.

All through the day men and women
And teenagers came to talk, to sail
And sometimes race,
Then the evenings he spend with a
Manhatten and a glass of white wine
On the love seat
Looking out the veranda onto the
Merlot colored bay.


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