Friday, October 08, 2010
I loved him here, when he failed to read an important novel, because I knew he would understand my relationship with Moby Dick.
And I loved him here, because even though I am a woman and I am expected to love and plan such things as bridal showers, in truth I despise them (in all their "astonishing detail") unless they consist of a.) much wine and b.) no silly games. No games at all. On top of that, I am the person to whom his ode is addressed ("O person like me/phoneless in your distant cafe....")
And I really love him here today, in this droll comparison:
The Return of Odysseus
by George Bilgere
... With the help
of his son Telemachus he slaughters roughly
one hundred and ten suitors
and quite a number of young ladies,
although in view of their behavior
I use the term loosely. Rivers of blood
course across the palace floor.
I too have come home in a bad mood.
Please promise me you'll go read the whole thing which, while it made me laugh, also acted as a bit of poetic melatonin, producing an elevated level of contentment as I rest in the knowledge that I, too, have someone who will listen to me with "epic patience."
The Poetry Friday round-up is at Carol's Corner.