By J.J. Tindall
Sick
I still have a crush on you, still
comparing thee
to a summer’s day:
more lovely, longer lease,
this kind of thing.
But I am sick
of being hurt
and of hurting others.
I believe I have finally
earned the right
to knock it off, perhaps
for good. Mature women do it
all the time, to great kudos
from their peers.
Years don’t matter anymore.
You are forever
in my clogged soul.
My kitchen sink
clogs often.
I’m now an expert un-clogger:
Don’t follow directions,
forge a new path!
I called a plumber once
and he re-configured the plastic piping
so I can unscrew the front plug
and drain the stalled water myself.
That’s critical. Then you pour in
half the goddam bottle of Maximum Strength
Drano, wait a few hours, pour in
the other half, wait overnight
to flush it out
and you’re good
to go!
I’m a quick study,
like when my downstairs neighbors
in my century-old West Town two-flat
moved out one December day
and left the back door
propped open so rats
got in, two plump ones.
I had to learn
how to catch rats!
I could do it for you
now. The secret:
glue traps. Of course
you still have to
harvest the shrieking buggers
(work gloves, BBQ tongs),
get them into a garbage bag
then out to the curb or alley can.
The process is harrowing,
enervating, but then you feel
empowered, the rough new skill
an emblem
of liberation.
One cultivates accentuation
of the positives after going Off-Market:
control, routine, comfort,
solitude, freedom,
exhilaration.
You would have had me call
another plumber, an
exterminator.
I get it. That’s you.
Here’s me: years don’t matter.
Don’t follow directions.
I’m healing,
I aspire
to heal.
–
J.J. Tindall is the Beachwood’s poet-in-residence. He welcomes your comments. Chicagoetry is an exclusive Beachwood collection-in-progress.
–
More Tindall:
* Chicagoetry: The Book
* Ready To Rock: The Music
* The Viral Video: The Match Game Dance
Posted on January 16, 2018