Neil McKay's Shared Poems

The western sky tonight, what color was that?
Purple? Orange?
It was both and neither.
Bellingham bathed in indescribable light,
Purange?
Orple?
There is not a word for it.
This beauty, this wavelength,
That cannot be reproduced in photographs.
My friend Corey tried to capture it,
In photo after photo.
"Here's a picture of a sunset,"
He would say, "over Bellingham Bay."
"And here's a picture of another sunset,
I think I took this one the next day."
Dozens upon dozens, all alike, all lifeless,
Until I mocked him silent.
"This one is a photo
Of a photo of a photo
Of a sunset,"
I said, cutely.
This evening I regret my snide remark.
Tonight, as the colors darken, I wish for his success.
Keep trying, Corey.
Never stop.

If there was a defining moment in my childhood,
It was the day I found my mother's typewriter
And the stack of onionskin paper next to it
Words in that elegant font that now seems so
Affected but back then it was all we had.
The clatter ding zip of line after line.

Short poems of one or two stanzas
Clever and sad, a mirror of her life of poverty
and laughter. Poems about her children,
Her mother, her fights with the church
Essays about her father, her return to college
As a mother of eight, as a housewife in the sixties.

She was my Erma Bombeck, she was my Dorothy Parker
She was Lucille Ball and Imogene Coca
A stone faced comic, a hapless romantic
Her singing style comparable to Jimmy Durante
Though in her mind, Pearl Bailey was her sister.
If you are going to fantasize, go all the way.

I wanted to be as good as she was
That's all I ever really wanted
Out of my literate efforts
To be compared favorably to an unpublished housewife
Who wrote in her basement after
Dinner while her children did the dishes.

It's not easy for someone like me,
An eight year old in grown up's clothing.
Better suited for playing Go Fish,
Than for filing taxes, paying bills.

My mind wanders off at the least excuse
I'm off to the cupboard to search for cookies.
The cat is calling my name
And I'm eager to get back to my comic book.

And there are no adults here
But the jobs have to get done
Or else we starve, or else we lose the house
Or else someone takes us away.

We do what we have to do
But we don't eat our vegetables
And we stay up all night
And watch endless episodes of Gilligan's Island.

We entertain ourselves
With dirty songs and
Knock-knock jokes
Who's there? Boo. Boo who?

Why you crying?
I fell getting down off an elephant.
You moron, you can't get down off an elephant
You get down off a duck.

We wonder if everyone lives this way,
Or if it's just us. If we are the only ones
Answering the door, crying,
Stuck on an elephant,

The cat does not like
To spend the night alone,
Preferring instead to create
a cat bed by leaning into
my bent legs at the back of the knee.

We sleep together this way
Most nights, and have done so
These past five years since
Being cast from the family home.
Two vagrants, comrades by necessity

However
We do not always sleep together
We do not always sleep alone
Occasionally we have a guest
And the cat finds himself
With new sleeping arrangements

And occasionally I sleep
Somewhere else, and he is left to
His own devices. He is lonely, having gotten used
To my warmth, the white noise of my snoring
He doesn't understand my need for others

He thinks all we need is each other
It's a perfect life as long as I'm home
Each night. But I long for something else
I want to nest in someone's bends
The same way he nests in mine.

How many poems have been written
about the blank page? At least
One more than the world needs.

Blank page, you stand on my table,
with your hands on your hips
Like my ex-wife used to

Blank page, you taunt me:
"Well?" you say, your eyes
demanding I account for myself.

Blank page I can't read your mind
I don't know what you want
Just say it, tell me what I should write.

Blank page, your silent treatment
is not helping the situation.
Our emotional bond is dissolving.

Blank page, maybe we need some time apart
You stay here, I'll find a place in town
We can't keep doing the same thing over

And expect different results. You
won't change and neither will I
Not in our bones, not in our hearts.

Blank page, I hope we can be friends
But it will take some work on both our parts
Starting with forgiveness.