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Aftereffects (In Ozark, Alabama))A Poem))

Aftereffects (In Ozark, Alabama))A Poem))


I think by now it is time for us to move on from here.


I can see the shanty huts, the ones along side the Cemetery, dilapidated they are, in need of restoration


long overdue. The garbage has filled the air above our small rented house, and the grass against the


fence can’t hide the cemetery or the garbage. I’ve walked through that section, when we first came here,


over the gravestones through the tall grass, —twilight itself shinned on my porch, the neighbor flirted with me from her’s .


I just pretended not to notice and stood outside, smiled. I saw her move about. She reminded me of me —


when I was single and younger, long ago — as she moved on, and away from the porch


from the screened-in door with reflections from the moon. I confess that my insides were dropping, cramping


I kept a pretense. In it, I became different and nervous, not wanting to crossover to her, shameful she came to me


from her mouth these words came (echoes throughout me) “You see, my husband wants me to lay with you, and watch?”


that came from her so easier, opening a wishful door, but I didn’t want a scar, or wound, or being numb; it would


had been the beginning, the second time —closer to the end.


#1706 7-27-2007


Note: I lived in Ozark, Alabama in the 1970s, and have been married a few times, and was there with my wife, and my neighbor was an attractive woman, a few years younger than I (her husband a friend, and both high on pot all the time), and to be honest, I and my human nature was being tested. I am no hero for avoiding the situation, but glad I did, it is simply trading one pot of crickets for another, and who needs that.


See Dennis' web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com


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