and I didn’t want it, to be close <br />afterwards unable to escape bad dreams <br />and the immense sadness of olives <br />as she stuffed them tightly into the plastic container <br />red and green and black and “You only <br />take me here once a month” <br />referring to Brighton Beach, and the food <br />stores lining the block <br />her brother a buddy of mine <br />run over forty years ago <br />who knows what happened to her <br />and then the guy she lived with for a decade <br />ran away, she said he also <br />ran away from his first wife, <br />what that meant I had no idea. <br />“My eyes feel a terrible strain <br />when I’m at the computer, ” she said. <br />I said, “Get a new pair of glasses <br />on Nostrand Avenue, $35.” <br />“They’re only a dollar in the 99 cent store.” <br />“They just make things bigger” I wanted to say, <br />“don’t really incorporate vision correction” but said nothing. <br />She smiled, a youthful fifty-three, and only <br />a few wrinkles. <br />“Unless you want to pay, ” she said, <br />always talking about money, as if she had none, <br />but with her father’s credit cards <br />wanted for nothing, except love. <br />Once a week she went to a Recovery group at Lutheran Hospital <br />started after the man ran away <br />a place to go <br />doom less horrific when huddled together <br />each shattered soul enunciating details. <br />No hope, I thought <br />her glistening tears destined to drop <br />only on the vast desert of her own heart <br />to no avail <br />then, Surely hope, a bit <br />after all she simply wanted a decent lad to spend a dollar <br />on Chinese food to show he cared, the ache <br />for movie love long gone from the night <br />and not wanting to witness the final scene <br />I could not turn away.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/again-doom/
