singing their jubilation of a Sunday evening.
They’re finally slowing to an easy pace.
My SecurID reads 456495 tells me what
happens in my head like Joe Pesci driving us
home to the couch from dinner in the North End.
The couch is asleep with somebody on top of it.
An aquamarine stapler. Upstairs at the Indian place
in Central Square vegetarian thali dinner—I shed a
nother tear like she walks down the aisle. On TV
a misogynist in South America fighting killer ants.
Finally I find pizza—a joint called Barbato’s—IT
IS APRIL at NIAGARA FALLS although we
only allude to the transition. Mark my words
Monday I will write it all down. After blowing
bubbles on the newlyweds I drive 23 miles to
the Riverside Inn in Cambridge Springs for a
reception. I take off before the cake. My
solitude is over. I’m home 11:30 snuggle him up.
Next morning watch him graduate with Kissinger.
