For L.M.

Today is Friday, 22 September 2006.

Maybe it’s just my ego, but surely at least one of y’all out there in Television land is wondering, Whassup with HH? Poetry, not apocalypse?

Mr. and Mrs. HH, due to family needs, have not had a “real” vacation, as defined by the standards of when we grew up in the 60s, since, … whatever. Worth every minute of stayin’ close to the Old Homestead; one’s parents only die once, one would hate to miss it.

So, for the past few days and until Monday, we’re havin’ a stay-at-home vacation. Damn, we ate out both breakfast and lunch yesterday. Bought an antique lamp today. Tomorrow, maybe we overthrow a fascist military dictatorship somewhere. Livin’ large.

So, HH has been goin’ softie.

Not that he hasn’t been stockpilin’ the righteous anger.

Maybe Lily Rowan is the only one who digs the beat of HH’s poetry. It’s been described as “sappy.” Soon herewith, another.

OK, so, on this day in 1980, Iraq attacks Iran, the USA will come in on the Iraq side, and very bad things we all know about will ensue, much of the Iraq side financed by the USA (and it gives HH no pleasure to note this), and 1,000,000 people plus died.

So. In days of old, this would have been titled, "For A Lady". That too.

FOR L.M.

I treasure the memory best of all
When in the Graduate Commons Room at University
Your head was bent to your work.

While most of us competed in wit
I discovered you smiling into your papers
Somehow too shy to share your awareness and amusement,
Except with a quick, shy glance at me.

You were promised to another,
And that's another story.