Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsSpring 2019  Vol. 18 No. 1
an online journal of literature and the arts
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A Good Date

I dreamed I was on a faraway planet, and when I woke up I was in my
neighbor’s bed. I said, “Excuse me, I don’t really know how I got here, I
was dreaming and when I woke up I was here.” She said, “I don’t understand
it. I was alone when I went to bed. All the doors were locked, I’m sure
of it.” “I’m sorry. I’ll leave now. It won’t happen again, I promise you.”
“Well, as long as you’re here, let me make you some breakfast,” she said.
“Oh, I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” I said. “It’s no trouble, I
promise you,” she said, and went into the bathroom to get dressed. She came
out in a long black gown covered with silver stars. She wore a tiara on her
head that sparkled with what looked like diamonds. “Make yourself comfortable,”
she said. “It won’t take long.” We chatted a bit while she busied herself in
the kitchen. Then she pulled out a pan from the oven and said, “This should
be good.” It was a moose shank covered in green noodles, for breakfast, no less.
We sat there gnawing on the shanks like wild beasts in the forest. My
stomach nearly turned over. But she, Matilda, couldn’t get enough of it.
She gnawed and gnawed until her dress was covered with its juices. “Aren’t
you hungry?” she said to me. “Not really,” I said, and put my shank down on
the plate. “Would you care to arm wrestle?” she said. “Not today,” I said.
“How about some ping pong?” she said. “I don’t think so,” I said. “Well,
what would you like to do?” she said. “I think I had better go home,” I
said. “I feel hurt, rejected. You don’t like me, do you?” she said. “Oh
no, it’s not that. I just have things to do at home,” I said. “What could you
possibly have to do that’s more important than having fun with me?” she said.
“Well, I have to mow the lawn and fix the roof, those are two things,” I said.
“Can’t they wait until tomorrow?” she said. “I have to go to work tomorrow,”
I said. “What if I put handcuffs on you?” she said. “You wouldn’t do that,
would you?” I said. “I would.” I moved toward the door. She pulled a
lasso from under the table and tossed it over my head. She pulled it
tight and I fell over. Then she pulled handcuffs from under her dress and
put them around my wrists. “You’ll stay, won’t you?” she said. “My God,
you’re quick with those things,” I said. “A good date’s hard to find these
days,” she said. Then she smothered me with kisses all over.  

   Nine Posthumous Poems

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