by Madeleine J Deerly (1938-2009)
well here I was, facing another locked drawer without a key,
and not just metaphorically, although there is that.
thinking more crap that you accumulated and left me to deal with;
more coins, more stamps, more bills, a neatly
rubber-banded bundle of Publishers Sweepstakes entries
never sent in but saved because god knows why.
all that junk in my basement. a car that no one wants,
cowering in dusty mortification and leaking oil
all over a dozen or so cartons
containing nothing useful as far as I can see.
and I think, oh what a lovable idiot you were, you great big doofus
what a warm and funny simple guy, and wasn’t I lucky
to be the one you loved and left all this mess?
and wasn’t life more interesting and full because you were so careless
about the details, like putting the car title where someone could find it?
and wasn’t I just telling someone the other day
about how none of this mattered because you and I were always
so crazy about each other?
and isn’t it ironic now that I have to pay some guy $65
to drill out this lock and find this little pile of what will turn out to be
love letters from the Polish lady who took care of your mother?
yes, the very one for whom I wrote the glowing reference,
although my intention was not to refer her to you.
to whom was I talking, when I thought I was talking to you?
and just how long did you think it would take
for me to turn this into material?
