the poetrysheet

whimsy, subversion, bowling

Number 446, Dec. 17, 2003

Bill Zavatsky (1943- )

 


I have a plan I have thought out,” Pilon said. “When I was a little boy, we lived by the railroad. Every day when the train went by, my brothers and I threw rocks at the engine, and the firemen threw coal at us. Sometimes we picked up a big bucketful of coal and took it in to our mother.”

—John Steinbeck, Tortilla Flat

 


 

One sorry guy

 

“Loose lips sink ships,” they used to say in the war. Off-the-cuff conversations, uttered in innocence, could, in fact, hurt and kill. Be wary.

 

In personal life, the loose-lips issue is still something I have great difficulty with. What can I say without getting into trouble? What should I say not to get into trouble? How can I be myself if I must always assay who I am relative to who is in the room? On the phone? Listening around the corner?

 

I ran into this recently with a little project I worked on with another person and put a lot of effort into. It went this way and that, here and there. In the end, I was proud of what we had accomplished.

 

Then, the thing fell apart—on all things, the cost of the end product.

 

All right, negotiation, compromise. A little more work. Honest effort, I think. That’s all. Hard work, after all, is the basis of just about everything I believe in. That and honesty and fairness.

 

In my naïve way, I went along this happy, if difficult path, until I had a conversation in which I talked about the person paying for the project to his employee. What I said was honest but intended in greatest love and laughable interest—an example of his business practice as insight to the man’s character, which is of highest integrity. After all, he is a man I greatly admire and trust.

 

But, like the child’s game where the kids sit in a circle and utter a sentence from ear to ear to see how it transmutes from the first child to the last, the example was communicated in a way that did not include my intention, had no semblance of my love and admiration for the man.

 

I sit here today, at my poetrysheet desk, feeling sort of naked, writing a very personal entry, the sort of journal entry I never intended for this page. Things have blown up, become very nasty, personal, and vindictive. I have reacted poorly and have now many amends to make.

 

Moreover, I want to forget the whole business ever happened, to take back the last ten or so days, to say no when I know I should have. I want more than ever to excise the greed and lust for a quick score that I indulged to get into the project in the first place.

 

But I will finish this page, as I always do, and take a deep breath. I will put aside the horrible feelings that come with being who I am all the time, in every situation, and try to learn to be more…professional.

 

And I will ask myself again what I have to do today to make things right

 

Because all I really want to do is write.

 


Today’s poem:

 

snowman

 

head rolled up on the elm stump

in the sun yesterday—

smile gone, eyes lost,

dogs chewed the boots up

 

carrot nose lies in grass-pocked melt,

hat blown up by the door,

scarf blinks in a tree branch

 

in a dirty ball of ice,

a glove waves at the end of a stick


send short poems, short thoughts, fictions, or nonfictions to the poetrysheet, where whimsy, subversion, and dancing naked in the living room are our highest values


submit/whimsy/subversion/bowling/archive

Poetry News!/contact/subscribe

 

all material copyright poetrysheet and personally recommended press, unless otherwise arranged with the authors. for information, contact rev. patrick dobson, 1132 e. 65th st., kansas city, mo, 64131, 816-333-7303.