poem of the day 12.02.09

forty-seven

we are in bed.

my parents are visiting from
pittsburgh.

my father has had the weather channel
on for three straight hours.

i really liked that poem you posted
my wife says.

thank you.

i just hope that my sister doesn’t
read your blog.

why?

well, because you criticized my family
for the black friday dinner.

it was a joke.

you didn’t criticize your parents
for staying with us for three days.

i have plenty of poems
about my parents.

which ones?

it was all in good fun anyway, i say

some people won’t see it that way.
maybe your fans will.

i don’t have fans.

then we were quiet.
through the bedroom door
i hear that it is going to be fifty degrees
in new york tomorrow.

i hate the sound of televisions
through thin apartment walls.

it’s going to be forty-seven
on friday, i say.
i read it in the paper.

good, my wife says.
why don’t you write a poem
about that too.