Communicator, cooker, drinker, poet. Grew up in a mining town, wore a hard hat.

Saturday, May 06, 2006

vesuvio's (or) in the name of the father, of the son and of the missing brother

the father, smiling and generous, admits to having trouble hearing over dinner. he goes on at length, prompted by my occaisional comment, about the state of student-book vendor relations and the unfortunately high cost of copyright. reaches for the bill the moment it hits the table, i like him very much.

i am very fond also of the mother, a gardener, much like a flower herself, glowing and brimming with giggles. she sips slowly on her glass of wine. seems to be stuck in spring, which is particularly becoming.

the son, another matter entirely. tall, thin, sharp. he squeezes my knee under the table reassuringly. stares at me without blinking. kisses my forehead. places my cold hands between his warm thighs and tells me he loves me. he's of a good breed.

the missing brother, in all his height and sarcasm, will return home to find, in the refridgerator, a package of pizza wrapped and left with much love. wish he'd come. had some comment to make, some chuckle.

what good boys, they are. and from such good parents.