PHONE CALL FROM THE PAST

Too many years have passed
for easy calculation.
Borrow ten from the left
column, subtract, and shake
your head in startled disbelief.

The conversation lurches
from mundane to awkward,
rights its feet, treads close
to danger, retreats, scrambles
to find firm foothold.

Behind the polite questions
lurk the real ones:
    Where have you been?
    Where are you now?
    Who are you now?
    Why have you called?
    No really. Why have you called?

THE WISE MEN COME TO BETHLEHEM

Surprised?  Yes.
But not surprised at Herod, that camel brain.
We figured him for the petty tyrant
most kings turn out to be.
Always the same, their outward show
-- haughty, grand, fully in command --
but underneath they tremble, shake at shadows,
see enemies behind each post and pillar.
"I would worship the new king,"
said Herod.
Hah!

No, what stunned us was this . . .
that our search should lead us here,
to wretched, barren Bethlehem.
What kind of king could be birthed
in this backwater burg?
There must be some mistake.
One last try?  Oh very well.
Let's ask around.  "Hey, you there.
We're looking for a child.  Tell us,
is there a new-born in this God-forsaken town?"

CHRISTMAS LESSON

Other children had fathers
who, as Christmas approached,
would herd them into the car, drive
them to the woods, saw down
a perfectly shaped evergreen,
tie it fast to the roof, and
lead them in a chorus of "Jingle
Bells" all the way home
where their mothers would
be waiting for them with
steaming cups of hot chocolate
with tiny marshmallows
floating merrily on the surface.

At least that's the impression
I got from the pages of Jack and Jill.

I, on the other hand, had
a father who taught
me the meaning of irony
as, observing the craziness
of harried holiday shoppers,
plodding cheerlessly from store to store,
he would chant, with cocked eyebrow,
his annual litany:
"Christmas comes but once a year
and when it comes, it brings good cheer."

My mother did not think
it was funny.

AGE OF ABSURDITY

The answering machine is
blinking.

The recorded woman's voice informs me that the
company

it represents has a line of many fine
products

available for purchase during the holiday
season.

It goes on to say that
unfortunately

all their sales agents are
busy

at the moment talking to other
customers

but I have the opportunity to
learn

about their line of many fine
products

by either staying on the
line

or, if I prefer, by calling
642-932-4655.

YOUR ADVENTURE

If you were twelve and Ronnie
ran over from his place yelling
there's been a big pile-up down
at the bridge, you would jump on your

bike and ride like a bat out of you
know where just like I did that
summer Saturday back in ‘53.
You'd see the tire marks and

you'd imagine hearing the screams
from the passengers when they
realized they were going
to smash head-on into the dump

truck coming around the curve.
You wouldn't be surprised to
see a crowd of people standing
around the ambulance but

you would be surprised to
see the driver of what was left of
the ‘49 Mercury lurching around,
hardly hurt, saying it isn't his

fault goddamit that everybody
in the car is dead he'd only
had a coupla beers so stop
lookin' at him like he's some

common criminal. You'd see the
police car pull up and a cop
would come over and say you
kids beat it so you'd get back on

your bikes and head home
where your mother would
be standing on the porch
with her hands on her

hips and giving you that look of
hers and she'd say where've
you been, what were you
and Ronnie up to and
you'd both say "Nuthin."

AT CANA

Must you really go? So soon?
Of course, I understand. Your
mother tells me you are . . .
what did she say . . . impetuous. Yes.
I myself . . . you may not believe
it . . . was once much like you,
though I would have called
it . . . restless, I suppose.
It's the way of youth to want . . .

And, to tell the truth,
my daughter over there,
the bride, so flushed with
happiness . . . at least I hope
it's that . . . I do wonder if she
will be content with . . .

Oh yes, her husband will
provide. I've seen to that.
He is steady, something
of a plodder, truth to tell.
Just between the two of us,
she once confided to her
mother that she thought you . .

But I'm keeping you. Forgive
my going on like this.
It must be the wine.

WHAT THE WIDOWED KNOW

We met that day on the job,
traveling together with time to

talk, gave, as is the custom,
the briefest of biographies

-- how does one, after all,
condense a lifetime into five

minutes or thereabouts --
and then fell silent. She, or

maybe I, noted that the day
was unseasonably warm which

reminded her, she said, how much
this time of year was treasured

by her husband. He couldn't wait
to hit the golf course she said

and laughed at something she
remembered. She did not tell

me what or why.
I understood.