the poetrysheet

whimsy, subversion, bowling

Number 466, Feb. 18, 2004

Ellen Jaffe (1945- )

 


Everyone’s running around

with no place to go

looking for someone to make love to,

looking for someone but no love to give.”

Marvin Pontiac*, “Runnin’ Round” from the album Legendary Marvin Pontiac


 

American Study #27—Kansas City, Missouri

By Lee Ingalls

 

I was puzzling over the orange juices at Marsh’s Sunfresh, a shining and super-colossal city of comestibles, when a woman wheeling a nearby shopping cart asked me if I was a romantic person.

 

“Yes I am,” I replied with an uncharacteristic lack of hesitation. My answer pleased her.

 

“You see?” she said to her shopping companion, a woman of about the same age who could have been a sister or a girlfriend. “I could tell by what you had in your cart.”

 

“I’m glad to see that it shows,” I said as they moved off and quickly checked the contents of my cart: two bottles of red wine, Italian pasta in a sky-blue box, olive oil, tomatoes, garlic, a package of sausages (!), bananas (!!)—all you’d really need to add was condoms and a Barry White album.

 

Looking down, I noticed that my fly was open.

 


*An interesting footnote to today’s epigram: Marvin Pontiac is a part-time persona of legendary jack-of-all-musical-genre John Lurie. The Legendary Marvin Pontiac is a study in what free-form jazz, rock and roll, island music, africana, and new york all might sound like after Lurie put them into the KitchenAid for a long, slow turn. It’s funny, angry, fresh, and fun. You should put it on for a long, slow turn.

 

What really rocks is this entry lifted directly from the amazon.com Web site, which, though exposing the soft underbelly of corporate giantism, is surprisingly apropos:

 

Customers interested in Marvin Pontiac may also be interested in:

*Discount Vehicle Program

Pontiac Vehicle Purchase Program. Rebates, Incentives, Forms, Quotes. http://www.supplierprograms.com

 

 


Today’s poem:

 

Sisters

 

back then

when the hills were too big

we walked our bikes

to fire hydrant rest stops

with tomatoes from Everly’s garden

apples from Cole’s tree

strawberries, hot and sweet,

from the pyramid beneath

 

back home

hot rubber hose water

until it ran cold

bare feet in cool grass

then, a scramble for the corner

of the house, formulate a lie

make up another story

the same as the last

 

it’s funny today to remember

how good stolen fruit tastes

eaten under hot sun, bike propped

against a knee, and the way

hose water tastes once it runs cold—

and how we’re still hiding

in the bushes

from the man in the back door

 


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