Come On In Read Online Free PDF

of stairs 
    and there she’d be, still in bed.
    she was getting fatter and
    fatter, although we seldom
    ate. 
    “3 bottles,” I said, “of
    port.”
    “thank god!” 
    “no, thank me . I work the
    miracles around
    here.” 
    then
    I’d pour the port into
    two tall water
    glasses 
    another day
    begun. 

alone again
    I think of each of
    them
    living somewhere else
    sitting somewhere else
    standing somewhere else
    sleeping somewhere else
    or maybe feeding a
    child
    or
    reading a
    newspaper or screaming
    at their
    new man … 
    but thankfully
    my female past
    (for me)
    has concluded
    peacefully. 
    yet most others seem to
    believe that a
    new relationship will certainly
    work. 
    that the last one
    was simply the
    error of
    choosing a bad
    mate. 

    just
    bad taste
    bad luck
    bad fate. 
    and then there are some who
    believe that old
    relationships can be
    revived and made new
    again. 
    but please
    if you feel that way 
    don’t phone
    don’t write
    don’t arrive 
    and meanwhile,
    don’t
    feel bruised because this
    poem will last much
    longer than we
    did. 
    it deserves to:
    you see
    its strength is
    that it seeks
    no
    mate at
    all. 

fooling Marie (the poem)
    he met her at the racetrack, a strawberry
    blonde with round hips, well-bosomed, long legs,
    turned-up nose, flower mouth, in a pink dress,
    wearing white high-heeled shoes.
    she began asking him questions about various
    horses while looking up at him with her pale blue
    eyes. 
    he suggested the bar and they had a drink, then
    watched the next race together.
    he hit fifty-win on a sixty-to-one shot and she
    jumped up and down.
    then she whispered in his ear,
    “you’re the magic man! I want to fuck you!”
    he grinned and said, “I’d like to, but
    Marie … my wife …”
    she laughed, “we’ll go to a motel!” 
    so they cashed the ticket, went to the parking lot,
    got into her car. “I’ll drive you back when
    we’re finished,” she smiled. 
    they found a motel about a mile
    west. she parked, they got out, checked in, went to
    room 302.
    they had stopped for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s
    on the way. he stood and took the glasses out of the
    cellophane. as she undressed he poured two. 
    she had a marvelous young body. she sat on the edge of
    the bed sipping at the Jack Daniel’s as he
    undressed. he felt awkward, fat and old
    but knew he was lucky: it promised to be his best day
    ever.
    then he too sat on the edge of the bed with her and
    his Jack Daniel’s. she reached over
    and grabbed him between the legs, bent over
    and went down on him. 
    he pulled her under the covers and they played some more.
    finally, he mounted her and it was great, it was a
    miracle, but soon it ended, and when she
    went to the bathroom he poured two more drinks
    thinking, I’ll shower real good, Marie will never
    know. 
    she came out and they sat in bed
    making small talk.
    “I’m going to shower now,” he told her,
    “I’ll be out soon.”
    “o.k., cutie,” she said. 
    he soaped good in the shower, washing away all the
    perfume, the woman-smell.
    “hurry up, daddy!” he heard her say. 
    “I won’t be long, baby!” he yelled from the
    shower. 
    he got out, toweled off, then opened the bathroom
    door and stepped out. 

    the motel room was empty.
    she was gone. 
    on some impulse he ran to the closet, pulled the door
    open: nothing there but coat hangers. 
    then he noticed that his clothes were gone, his underwear,
    his shirt, his pants with the car keys and his wallet,
    all the money, his shoes, his stockings, everything. 
    on another impulse he looked under the bed.
    nothing. 
    then he saw the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, half full,
    standing on the dresser.
    he walked over and poured a drink.
    as he did he saw the word scrawled on the dresser
    mirror in pink lipstick: SUCKER. 
    he drank the whiskey, put the glass down and watched himself
    in the mirror, very fat, very tired, very old.
    he had no idea what to do next. 
    he carried the