Home Alone

June 23, 2014.

Sue is gone and as soon as she left I experienced a flare up thrush and it has made my gums very sore, to sore to eat normally. The real problem is a bad fit with my dentures. I have a dental appointment next Monday. Not having a car is a serious handicap. Even if I make an emergency appointment, I have no way to get there. Everyone I know is working during the day. I will call Duarte today and hopefully once she sends a script to Walgreen's, Cathy will be able to take me to pick it up. I ate at Kai's house last night and it wasn't much fun tiring to eat with out teeth.

During a discussion around the table I noticed a reaction in Aaron about the poetry book I hope to to publish through Jim Standford. He asked does he have money? When I said yes, he dismissed the project as just another self-publishing venture headed nowhere, that I was exploiting the good graces of an ex-student of mine. I am seizing on an opportunity,
no doubt about that, but I am not the first artist/writer to lean on someone with money to accomplish something.

I am working on another poem, in between a lot of drawing. It's called "Obession."

I once knew a man obsessed with
his wife's affairs, even though he
knew what she intended to do even
if married, so he knew, sort of, in a
vague iffy way what he was in for.
When they did happen he wanted
to be the proverbial fly on the wall.
The details, he said, the details,  
tell me what  you, he, did and where,
knowing softens the blow
knowing would be like being there.
being there is like sex by proxy,
as if, he could dial back to their
coitus, the aroma and taste of sex,
her moans, groans, sounds of climax,
seeing her take the penis of another man
and clearly enjoying it more than he
thought she could or should.

There was always the trail of clues
the spot on the new blue dress, the
black bikini panties stuffed into the side
pocket of the pool table, the misplaced
phone call, calling him by the wrong
name while they were making love--
the many slip-ups of simple treachery
that trip up the cheater. True, he never
traced her movements, always leaving her
be the free agent she wanted to be. She
was free to fuck whoever she liked in her
Secret Palace of outside pleasure, but
never threaten the pledge of marriage--
that would not stand.