Thursday, July 14, 2011

Before The Reading


Tonight I am reading at The Teaneck General Store on Cedar Lane. The reading starts at 7:30 and I'm on at 9:25, or so I'm told. I've been sorting through poems, trying to decide what to read. I once saw Dara Horn at a reading and she said she didn't get book readings because everyone there - presumably - could read the published books on their own, so she read an unpublished story. I was grateful for and inspired by what Dara did. I plan to do the same for the most part, read from my unpublished (at least not in my book) poems.

I have lots of short poems about my dear friend - of blessed memory - Aaron Bulman. I'm thinking of reading the one below, although I like this one, in his voice, a lot. I don't know. When I read the poem linked to in Aaron's shul soon after he died, Rabbi Ellis Block was shaken, as though he'd seen and heard a ghost because he felt like the poem really was Aaron speaking.

The poem that follows is mostly my voice.


Aaron

Sunday morning
Has become Aaron's time
To visit me
Since he died
"Oh, I've always been overweight" -
Matter of fact, charming, real
The way he did everything
I don't remember what day that was
That he made that comment
About being fat
There were so many comments
There were so many days
I'd say all too few
But he wouldn't like that
“What do I have left to live for
My life has been so complete”
We found it weird to hear that
Aaron could sound a bit weird
This was just a bit more
Suffering from mono
Losing so much weight
Body weight, life weight
Dangerously thin he was
And he knew it, it seems
We didn't
So we grimaced
And mocked
Lovingly
As he spoke
About being kept alive
By late night radio
And cigarettes
It seems like a joke
A joke he would've loved
That no-one else got
His kind of joke
“Don't you get it - see
I'm dead”
Aaron stop it
“Oh come on Shelley
I'm dead, I'm dead
I think that's great”

And my mind floats
Over thirteen years
My friend keeps talking
Like he always did
“Who's choice was it”
He asked me
When he barely knew me
And I lost my first job
And years later I told him
And he said just what I needed
Only “I'm sorry”
“This girl is ready
To spin nickels for you”
He told me, implored me
Citing Rebetzin Jungreis
In her Jewish Press column
Saying singles over 30
Need a push
So he pushed me
But never pushed me away
And never went away
He's come closer for me
On Sundays like this one
While the world oversleeps
Aaron blows through
My air conditioner vent
I smell his smoke
I hear him shout
I feel my pain
And he tells me it's OK
“You don't get it
Being dead is good for me
I didn't expect to like it
Who does?”

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