jeudi 25 juillet 2013

Where did I put it?

It was the main key to open the door. On the key ring, a featherless rubber chicken
Many did deplore.
My habit was to squeeze and spin it around my index finger and
When stressed I would bite on the dirty chicken's rubbery feet and sing
"Chicken little, chicken little, hum di dum" to it.



My Credit card is blue and it has a shiny camel hologram
The bank issued it to me in Dubai when I was working as
Head chef of the Louvre.
I like to rub my thumb over the numbers of the card,
Somewhere along the line I know there are three zeros.
I shuffle it in my hand with other cards -not credit cards
Rather doctors cards and the card of my wife's cemetery
Indicating the number and letter of the plot where she has
Taken her new residence.



My car is golden; not sure of the mark. It has a low body
Automatic lights and the air conditioning is always set high.
Everyday I get on the main strip, plug the gas pedal and she
Takes off, pushing my body deep into the comfortable bucket
Seats.
Since I got a replacement, when I veer left I can feel a staple in my right hip
And it touches a nerve, I think, but the main thing is to get to my restaurant.
Today, I don't cook much anymore (with this lousy hip I now use a walker
The kind you drag with two tennis balls at the bottom.)
Every year or so a son comes by and changes the balls. He says the metal tubes have
Worn through them.
Aside from the screeching sound that is out of my hearing range -but I'm told-
It's scratching up the floors all over. Tan pis as they say in French.



Back to my driving: after a big thunderstorm sometime last year, there was such
A puddle that accumulated into a lake, a monstrous lagoon on US1
I hit the water so hard I skidded and almost hit a police car.
He made me get out, the water was up to my ankles and I felt my socks
Rolling down.
The officer saw on my bumper that I belonged to a yoga club
He said his wife belonged to the same one and let me go.




I speak about these things because I lost them, lost them all
Within a week.
I think.
The keys, my credit card and my car.
It can be jarring not to know where they are but
They are just material things;
Immaterial.

Yes there are other things too, I suppose.
There's the hot top with the two broken knobs that I struggle with and
The one double knob that controls a small heating surface if you turn it to the left and
A larger heating surface if you turn it to the right.
Or the other way around.
Just need the right size pot; no plastic.



When my wife used it I just didn't pay attention. Remember I was
A great chef mind you
My hip got in the way
The doctor was so good he said I could cook
But now I prefer to drive because with bouillabaisse you need wine and
That was on the list of things I couldn't touch.
In Dubai they said I was the Best. I have boxes of letters and pictures.
Look at them.

I got a call the other day I don't know from whom.
Maybe it was today.
A woman asked me how I was doing because she saw me
Wearing a two piece suit in the health club.
"What's so special about that?" I barked.
My closet is full of suits that I love and nobody wants them.
So I decided to wear them every day.
They probably have spots, I know, sometimes
Getting gas is a messy business, however,
I get compliments.
"You're looking swell" smirks the cashier or
"I wish I could dress like you" says the pool attendant.
Then I lift a smile that goes up a part of my face .



I stopped playing cards.
Chess was a long time before that. I can't figure to put
Together those demonic flushes and I know I used to
Do it all the time. "Flushy boy" they called me.
All flushes.
Joe, Dean and what's his name -the guy who could
Make drawings like that artist, what's his name that lived, near
Near that river near New York. Well I'll miss them but if I want
I can pick up the phone and call them if I can only find that piece
of paper with all the numbers!



Almost forgot: I have a son who makes me put on this beeping device
Around my neck. He thinks I'm a dog or something. It's all about safety
crap he says. He should talk to MY father I says.
When he's not here I put it in a shoebox with my pictures from Dubai.
The last time I carried it it was beeping in the elevator, I had three people
Trying to find out where it was and I said "Never again!"
Funny, I may not hear the screech but I hear the beep.
Maybe this thing is screeching again.
Where are the tennis balls?