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Paradise
Three: Venus: Earthly Love
57
she’s becoming her mother,
talking to herself all
the damn time
and dribbling food
down the front
of her
blouse
56
on the day before the movers,
in their big orange van,
finished clearing everything
out, I watched my wife
walk slowly from room
to dusty room sobbing,
as the gray shimmering ghost
of her mother trailed
along
behind,
its
head, pale
as powder, bent down
in the deepest sorrow
55
on the
steps outside
the old gym, early winds
of autumn blowing in
from across the playing fields,
I have to try and tell her,
I must
tell her,
about her unspeakable softness,
her
shattering beauty,
her shining brown eyes,
her sweet, feminine scent,
but all I can proclaim is, “I love you,”
and clasp her precious hands
desperately
in mine
54
under an empty moon,
I walked the three miles
from my house to her house,
hid in her back yard,
down low in the bushes,
waiting,
hoping,
for a mere glimpse
of her sweet, pure,
white
form moving up
in her bedroom window
53
I always felt I should do
something unusual
or extreme to win her over,
to gain her attention,
her
look of approval,
like serenade her or call out
to her from beneath her window
like in the balcony scene
in Romeo and Juliet,
climb
a ladder,
snatch
her away,
her knight in armor shining
like the moon
52
we’re up in the spotlight booth
as the
lights go dim
in the high school auditorium,
she seems so happy, yes,
she does seem happy,
quietly
waiting
with her eyes closed tight
allowing me to steal my first kiss
from
her there
alone in the night
51
August 15, 1990, our twentieth
wedding
anniversary,
we’re on a Cape Cod beach,
our three children huddled
with us beneath big umbrellas
avoiding the hot sun
and the cruel wind whipping
in from
across
frothy blue waves
50
can't sleep until
her daughter gets
in always beyond her
curfew
49
tells me that we’ll
be retiring
close to where the children
are living, wherever
that
might be,
and whether I like it or not
48
she’s incredulous
as I tell her my terrible dream
where
she no
longer loves me,
her eyes staring empty,
so empty,
into space
47
in the twilight I see her
across the grass and
the folding chairs
and faded blankets talking
with some friends,
gesticulating,
pushing the hair back
off
her face,
and I think how very pretty
she is still, and listen intently,
like a fox with its ears pricked,
for
the sounds
of her precious voice
to reach me in brief, simple,
unorganized tones
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