Glenn Ingersoll
What I Must Do Today:
Wait for you.
Thursday I have penciled in,
pending, you know, further developments:
Wait for you.I am setting aside Saturday.
And I think going to a museum on Sunday is out.I had it in mind to clean the whole house.
I got to the kitchen.
You will see that the fingermarks have been wiped
from every cupboard door,
and the floor shines like a serving platter.I didn’t vacuum under the bed.
Nor did I put the stuff in the closet into any kind of order.
I was afraid you wouldn’t knock loud,
when I didn’t pop up at the door right away you’d
shake your head and go away.I pull the chair up next to the window,
a novel open in my hand.
I read the page over and over. Then turn back and read
the one before.After awhile I go to the door,
listen for a car. Every so often one comes along.
I listen to it come. I watch it go.I have other things to do. Monday I’m going to the park
with Jennifer and her dogs.
Tuesday I start a parttime job shelving books
at the local library. I’ve been trying to get work
at the bookstore downtown.Wednesday I work, too.
Thursday is, as I said,
Wait for you,unless Patrick calls. But if he and I go out
I’ll spend the day worrying.Friday for sure.
And Saturday.
And, I think, Sunday, depending on the weather.
