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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781771613439 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Mosaic Press |
| Publication date: | 09/01/2018 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 200 |
| File size: | 366 KB |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
Wait For Me
In The Light of An Ordinary Morning
I study the ants swarming the counter tops in the light of an ordinary morning Some march in single file others in twos Some pause momentarily remembering suddenly they left behind their wallet or prescription on the dresser at home Some stand stock still maybe waiting for a friend maybe talking on the cell phone Some scurry like they're late for an appointment Some walk in circles confused and desolate over a bad piece of news A dab of strawberry jam is the prize, the mother lode It sits on the cutting board amid toast crumbs and the engineers are drafting a strategy to spirit this to the nest, to the Queen who paces in front of a tiny ant mirror despairing over the weight she's put on and what she'll wear for the feast celebrating their great find I'm way ahead I know something they don't I know it's a matter of time before I wreak havoc upon this industrious colony What shall it be?
Flood from an overturned mug?
Tsunami by wash cloth?
Death by a giant finger flicking them into insect eternity?
Or should I be the benevolent god?
I'm way ahead —
Let them live an hour longer while I drive to Home Hardware and buy those tiny plastic feeding stations
— space age looking drive-ins I'll invite them one by one to pull into these rest stops along their route to gorge themselves on super-sized meal deals I'll give them time to go back and tell friends and bring the little ones,
the old, the sick I'm way ahead of them God is good God is patient God feeds his children
Taking A Drive On Summer Evenings
He tells me that on summer evenings he cruises by the house owned by the man who slept with his wife and slows down in uncertain hope of hearing this man's voice through the screen door spying him cutting the lawn, or fixing his van It doesn't bother him like it used to There was a time he would avoid driving in that end of town take a detour and if he had to run by the street where this man lived he would look the other way maybe turn up the radio maybe talk loudly to himself Now he makes a point of going out of his way like visiting a grave site of someone who mattered He's never spoken to the man never dialed his number never written him a letter Has no idea what he'd say if he ever ran into him though silently in the car he rehearses that moment of confrontation There are times too when he's written the man's name down and stared at it, imagining his wife with this stranger on late winter nights when he was out of town recalls telephoning her once and how agitated she was and wondered what he had said to get her so upset Or the time he got home and the door was locked and she came from the basement Said she had hired a man to fix the locks on the door and he was now doing repairs to the dryer Never thought anything of it Now he tells himself it doesn't matter much any more not like before, not like when she first confessed the affair Doesn't matter much any more Still, as he turns down the man's street his heart slows and those moments thunder in his head and his car drifts in the warm summer evening and he imagines how easy how quick, and how perfect it would be to torch his house
Praying and Peeing
Inspired by a photograph by Robert Doisneau
I am the boy with the bird on his head I'm peeing and this damned bird that has come in through an open window at the school urinals won't budge I wiggle and squirm hoping erratic movements will nudge this fluttering angel but instead its feet shift on my head like it's standing on a spinning globe The other boys beside me peeing at the row of urinals are all laughing I begin praying to the Blessed Virgin Please Mary, Mother of Jesus the ever blessed and most immaculate most glorious beyond compare woman without defilement who gave birth to God, the Word,
the true mother of God I love all living things I know this to be God's creature Please make this motley dove fly away Please make these boys wet themselves from laughing so hard Please free me finally of these claws that dig into my scalp It's the least you can do I'm peeing for heaven's sake
Blowing Kisses
My dad on a Sunday afternoon driving his new Chev blowing kisses at the blonde stepping out of the diner on Wyandotte and she, smiling, and turning slightly to let the wind catch her hair Imagine my dad feeling pretty good about himself catching one last look of the blonde in the rear view mirror and blowing one last kiss I think of the word "blowing"
the act of one that blows.
A disturbance occurring when trapped gas or steam escapes from molten metal a defect in china hard breathing
and my dad hyperventilating in his new Chev at the sight of her, the molten metal of the fishtail fins gleaming in the hot sun the disturbance around the heart like trapped gas Blowing in the wind
The answer my friend is blowing in the wind
The word "blow"
Noun — (1), a hard hit; knock; stroke.
The boxer struck his opponent a blow that knocked him down.
(2), a sudden happening that causes misfortune or loss or severe shock. —
His mother's death was a great blow
But the woman at the diner was no misfortune, no disaster No great blow or knock or hard hit, except to the heart my dad's heart soaring in his chest that summer day when all the world talked of Korea and Ike played golf The kisses blowing in the wind The answer my friend is blowing in the kisses Blow and blow and blow blowback, blow-dry, blowfly, blowhole,
blowup, blow the gaff, blowdown,
blow-by-blow, blow in, blow the whole whistle blow gun, blow off, blow ball, blow lamp blowjob, blow hot and cold, blowhard blow a person's mind Blow and blow blow and blow your boat gently down the street ...
and my dad's car rides like a boat on the heat waves of suburbia and he'll huff and he'll puff and he'll blow the house down Blow: a sudden attack or assault.
The army struck a swift blow at the enemy
I think of the expressions comes to blows, to start fighting
After a few harsh words the two boys come to blows over the sweetheart at the diner
And my dad's car rides proudly in this big Chev Blow, blow, blow I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down And the newspapers reported a blow-by-blow account of the day I think of my dad riding in his big blue Chev, its fins glistening and proud in the sunlight I hear blow blow blow your boat gently down the street I'll huff and I'll puff And I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down
The Egg
For Pat Sturn
It might've been a cloudy Thursday morning as you made your way to school and scooped up a speckled blue robin's egg that had fallen in the field behind the house You slipped it into your pocket and from time to time throughout the gloomy day you slid a hand into the warm jacket and cupped its subtle contours like a pebble washed ashore It might've been after haying and a sky swarming with black birds and storm clouds that brought you by this field and you marveled at this feather-light egg and took it home and worried over its fragility its glossy membrane embraced by your hand like a secret It might've been you felt badly the next day and went back to the raked and rolling field and stood under a wide open sky and, open palm, held the egg up as if it belonged among the wind or it might've been your uncle, furious at your laziness and daydreaming slapped your side and broke the tiny egg in your pocket and told you to wake up and get back to your chores Or it might've been that every now and then when you sleep at night the egg seems to float in your weightless boyish dreams sky blue and small
The History of My Clothes
I dress in the dark so as not to wake my wife when I get up at 5 a.m.
The pants I wore yesterday gabardines, blue,
34 in. waist, 30 in-seam washable — bought at Moore's on sale Was $78, marked down 15%
now another 30%
for the summer sale I'll wear them again What about a shirt?
I won't turn on the lights in the closet — I reach out in blackness like a blind man and feel the lineup on hangers, convinced I can match the feel of the fabric with the colour I've mastered this also memorized the order from left to right:
three shirts in, I'll find a blue broad cloth button down, bought at the Bay three years ago
15 neck, 34-35 sleeve full price $43
Next to it are two silks tailored in Hong Kong very blousy I won't wear them feel too much like Mozart whenever I extend my arms loose-fitting sleeves drooping Feel the urge to play — notes bouncing in my brain and feel I'm wearing one of those courtly period powdered periwigs I settle on a shirt counted eight from the left a Daniel Hechter, button down cotton/polyester blend robin's egg blue I could be a stockbroker
— I'll take risks today buy and sell immortal souls like Lucifer, make a fortune for some, ruin others But first I've got to find some underwear — Standfields
loose fitting, large I hate anything gripping me down there unless it's of my own making And my socks, black always black — buy 10 pairs at a time, all the same so when they come out of the dryer hot like croissants out of the oven there's no worry over matching Always the same price three pairs, $9
cotton, stretchy I'm ready now I lay out the clothes on the bed in the dark, my wife still slumbering, first the Stanfields
now the socks, now the Daniel Hechter and stand there a moment feeling out of place awkward like a hockey player lounging about in full uniform but without skates Finally, the gabardines I'm ready —
I feel like me I am me I'm everybody
One Eight Hundred
It started with a phone call a 1-800 number on television at 4 a.m.
Harry Lorayne's Memory Power
A short guy with a Brooklyn accent pacing a studio audience inviting each one to identify themselves by name and occupation By the end of the show after he's demonstrated tried-and-true techniques of photographic memory he's reciting back everything they've told him I can't sleep I have nothing better to do My memory is shot My mind often goes blank when introducing my wife at a party, or maybe I panic, thinking This is stupid
— I can't remember her name after 30 years of marriage!
So I dial the number I am talking to someone on the phone who takes down my Amex number It's settled — -
Memory Power will arrive in five to six weeks Fine — I go back to bed A month or more later — -
I can't remember how much time has elapsed — I'm up in the middle of the night watching television and realize
Memory Power hasn't arrived I call another 1-800 number hoping it's the same but truly can't remember if it is — and tell this telemarketer on the phone"
"I ordered a memory building product from one of your television shows ..."
"Do you have the product number, sir?"
"No, I don't. I can't remember it."
"Do you have the name, sir?"
"The product name? No, I don't."
"Well, sir, we need the name!"
"You see," I explain, "I ordered this because it's supposed to help me remember things!"
"You can't remember the name, sir?"
"That's right — that's why I need this!"
And so the conversation goes I tell her I remember the show's host
"You know his name?"
"Sorry, I don't, but he was short and talked fast and had curly hair."
"That doesn't help, sir — we need his name! Well ... perhaps you can tell me how long ago you ordered this product?"
Sadly, I couldn't —
I didn't know the product name the host's name, when I ordered it, not even where I put my Amex receipts ...
I did know there was snow on the ground that morning
— it must have been winter I did know that my car wouldn't start I did know I telephoned the Auto Club I even remember the name of the man who came out to jump start my car — George —
and can't forget him telling me his youngest daughter went to the same school as my boy and she was sick that day, was throwing up I did know a lot of things about that day — my wife's hair appointment, even the time, and my oldest boy was heading for a hockey tournament,
and my brother was going into the hospital for more tests I did know it was a crisp morning I huddled in the cold on the street beside the car waiting for George, and never saw him again after that day — never even ran into him at school I told the telemarketer all these things and we talked at length She was patient and listened I talked and talked Told her about my kids how many goals my son scored last year how my daughter was now living in France how I had just celebrated
30 years of marriage
— she took it all in never once showing signs of wanting to end the conversation Then she started about her husband how they met at Mardi Gras in New Orleans, a wild night where they wound up at an all-night diner and talked till dawn Now she has three boys all in baseball, all dreaming of being Major Leaguers all under the age 8
So there we were at 3 or 4
in the morning playing out our lives on the phone to each other, all the things we liked to do, how much we loved our spouses, how we'd do anything for our kids how we wouldn't ever change our lives — we'd do it all over again if given the chance I asked for her name and she told me and I told her my name Finally I said goodbye That was it ...
All these years later I remember every detail about that early morning the time I spent on the phone with a stranger — I imagined she was pretty, imagined her removing head phones at the end of her shift and shaking her hair loose and reaching for her purse in the bottom drawer of a desk and slipping on her coat and walking to her car and driving off — home to her husband and getting the children ready for school making lunches and kissing them goodbye then finally climbing into bed I think about her often but realize after all these years
— and I swore I'd never forget this —
I can't for the life of me remember her name
The Headless Bird
My friend tells me he cut off the head of a chicken and the headless bird raced down the lane through the gate —
as if it knew exactly where it was going and sprinted down the highway toward Highgate where it finally dropped dead My friend tells me it fell short of the Guinness Book of Records
that rewarded a headless chicken lasting two miles before it finally gave up the ghost My friend tells me the town's folk chased after it laying wagers on how far it might travel My friend tells me it got to the town's limits and speculated there was no point going further figuring maybe the worst had already happened realizing it had left behind something in all the fuss Meanwhile why is it no one ever asks about the head left behind?
What about the scared sad eyes of the bird?
That stunned look that sense of panic like on someone's face who anxiously fumbles for a set of keys lost in a coat pocket or left on the piano by the door Meanwhile there is that silly puny head inching its impotent way still clacking
"Wait for me!
Wait for me!
Wait for me!"
Finding The Indian Ocean
He had always wanted to dip his toe into the Indian Ocean travelled thousands of miles to South Africa to stay with an aunt planned to motor to the ocean but she told him it was dangerous he ought to stay close ought not venture too far Instead, he dreamed of the ocean 300 miles away his mind swarming with memories of youth, a summer swimming out into Lake Erie to fetch a cow that had toppled in and drifted out, how he led this big hulking wet heifer back to shore Seeing it standing on the shore shaking itself free of lake water before waltzing across the sandy beach like a fat woman at a barn dance searching for a partner He had always wanted to dip his toe into the Indian Ocean and all one afternoon pored over encyclopedias and maps knowing truthfully he'd never do it and he lay there on a couch by the window, the soft afternoon light falling over him like the sweet voice of a country tune He had always wanted to dip his toe into the Indian Ocean but instead went out to buy post cards and guide books and spent his time driving into town idling in coffee shops, reading the paper and talking to locals He finally told a truck driver who sat down beside him at the counter how he had wanted to make that trek to the Indian Ocean if only to dip his toe into its waters Weeks later sitting by the window at his aunt's house a truck pulled up to the house at the edge of town
— that same man wearing a wide brimmed hat got out and made his way to the door carrying with him a bucket that sloshed with water and handed it to my bewildered friend who asked what this was all about And the man holding the bucket spoke about having just motored from the Indian Ocean how he had slipped the plastic container into it and drove straight back to this house My friend dutifully peeled off his socks dipped his toes into the bucket of water and with eyes shut imagined himself slowly wading into the open ocean on a cool morning in July and turning to his wife said, "It's not so cold, honey —
once you get in."
Excerpted from "Table Manners"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Marty Gervais.
Excerpted by permission of Mosaic Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Introduction,
From Wait For Me,
In The Light of an Ordinary Morning,
Taking A Drive on Summer Evenings,
Praying and Peeing,
Blowing Kisses,
The Egg,
The History of Clothes,
One Eight Hundred,
The Headless Bird,
Finding the Indian Ocean,
Reading Glasses,
Cutting the Lawn,
Pictures in the Shrine of Chimayo,
Under the Weight of Heaven,
Summer Bird Songs,
Nothing Left To Do,
Breathing Sweet Hope,
The Tao of Cows,
The Outdoor Barbers,
A Man Killing a Fly,
Seven Seconds of Wisdom,
Real and Alive,
Playing Blind,
From Lucky Days,
First Snow,
Plotting My Way Home,
Lucky Days,
Sweet Blue Sky,
Piano Hands,
The Autobiography of Mr. Henry,
A Place Where You Are Never Tired,
In My Head,
Lazy Eye,
How To Be An Italian Man,
How to Cook a Wolf,
Room 1607,
Hospital Dog,
My Wee Friends,
Barber Shop in Iraq,
That Day at War,
Nothing to Fear,
Change at the South Beach Cafe,
The Blue Lady,
The Treasure,
We Used to Ride to California,
Is That My Heart?,
Taking My Blood,
The Angel at My Bedside,
As the World Turns,
The Man in the Next Bed,
The Red Ribbon,
Turning Back the Clock,
Sunday Crossword Puzzles,
Imagine Myself Bearing Good News,
The Lexicon of Snoring,
The Cow in Your Kitchen,
Loose Fitting Light,
From Touch The Darkness,
River Poet,
Hands,
Those First Days,
To Touch the Sky,
The Wedding Dress,
Summer Nights Outside Metropolitan Hospital,
The Old Man's War,
Running From Us,
Upside Down,
The Magistrate's House,
Our Canadian Flag Along Detroit's Shore,
Cathedrals,
Moments Before the Old Presses Started at the Windsor Star,
Stables at Kenilworth Race Track,
Agnes At Rosa Parks/ West Grand Blvd.,
Summer in Detroit,
Einstein's First Concert,
Upon Joe Frazier's Death,
Porch Spiders,
Mr. McLuhan and the Windsor Cow,
Coughing Up Jesus,
Squatters,
Calling My Father,
The Timekeeper,
A Blind Routine,
Eye to Eye,
Woman In The Stone Cottage,
War Window,
If I Wrote Your Obit,
The Barrow,
Guardian Angel,
No Lazy Bones,
The Underpainting,
The Innocent,
From New Poems,
The Magic Wand,
Men at The Shell Station,
Mother,
When the Light Gets Warm,
Table Manners,
First Hearing Gordon Lightfoots,
Room with a Face,
Windsor's Field of Dreams 1900,
Chasing the Light,
On the Occasion of the Tall Ships in Windsor,
The Talking Monk,
Four of Us,
I'll Call You Jack,
The Last of the Passenger Pigeons of Our Lady of Assumption,
The Road We Take,
The Boy Near The Window,