Monday, August 14, 2006

And So to Bed

     This is a really old poem.   It appeared in the Ball State University Forum.

To dinner we had Paul and Sam, my bosses,
and their young blonded wives (acquired lately,
at no small charge of alimony, losses
of stock and children, both lamented greatly).
The trout was awful—thawed a bit and breaded.
Sam said he knew where corporately we’re headed
(to hell, he thinks).  Paul never says too much.
He drank almost two bottles of my best
French white bordeaux; I thought he looked a touch
green towards the end.  His wife was tightly dressed,
skirt slit to the thigh (which, nudging against mine,
made me uncomfortable, what with the wine).
Michelle wore her blue denim suit, of course.
She looks less like a preppie than a horse
after a couple joints.  I thinks she keeps
me back, of which Paul’s drinking is a sign.
Then, much as always, after all departed,
she starts to strip.  And here the poor tears started
(her fists curl up and shudder when she weeps).
I might have been gentler in what I said.
A final cigarette.  And so to bed.


RHE said...

Someone running the Google search "who said and so to bed" was led to this poem. Amusing. Unfortunately, his search, though it took him to an ad for a bed and breakfast and to the Book of John, it didn't seem to answer his question.


There. I feel better now.

Richard Epstein said...

I wonder if he ever found the right answer, or if he still believes I'm the one who said it.