A Different Kind of Person
By Stuart Dischell
I encounter a woman from a long way off
Almost every morning when I walk my dog
In a certain park between certain hours
That have not changed the whole season long.
She owns several coats, all of them
The same length, yesterday a gray one;
Today deep red, and she smoothed her
Cheek as she went by. She sees me
At my worst, unshaven, in my sweats,
Bagging dog shit, my son's skateboard cap
Pulled down to my eyebrows. Hers arch
When she says "Good morning" which is all
I have ever heard her speak with her accent
From somewhere between the Danube
And the Don, where I bet she modeled coats
In a capital city. How she got here or what
She does is none of my business, and I
Do not wish to say to her more than, "Good
Morning," or ask, "How are you today?"
And spoil the peace we have found among
The ornamental trees native to our region.
Paul worked from home on a Friday enlivened by a state-wide tornado watch so that we could watch the U.S.-Canada hockey game live at lunchtime, so I had company while I was working on my review of Deep Space Nine's "Call To Arms" and watching the U.S. lose (I am not even going to pretend to be devastated about this; pretty much all these guys are NHL players, while the Washington Capitals' most famous player was playing for Russia). Congratulations to Canada on all the hockey and curling victories, but I confess those are the Winter Olympics sports I watch the least!
I took Adam out for froyo because he took a ride with me to the post office to mail a package to a friend overseas. We had dinner at my parents' house, where we celebrated a very belated Valentine's Day with them. Then we came home and watched Warm Bodies, which despite my general aversion to all things zombie was pretty enjoyable; Nicholas Hoult is always adorable, even undead, and John Malkovich is always entertaining, and the film is fast-paced, not bogged down with a long zombie apocalypse battle. Some pics from Brookside last weekend: