Do you know, she asks, what day this is?
and I answer “Monday.”
Don’t be a wise guy, she says
while I’m trying to think.
It’s not your birthday, I say,
and she says, You get points for that,
but really, what day is it?
And I’m thinking, It should be a sin
to do this to a guy.
Seriously, she says, if you don’t know
just say so.
I know, I know, I say
but you make me nervous
and I can’t think when I’m nervous.
Forget it, she says, and walks out of the room
only to come back in a few moments
holding a new golf club.
Oh my God, I say,
and I’m only forty.
Forty-one, she says
Seymour Shubin
The Dancer Poem by Seymour Shubin
The Dancer Poem
I saw this so many years ago
On a school trip up the Hudson River to West Point.
This was before we got there
And the band was playing
And I looked into the large room on the deck
And saw her dancing.
Oh what a dancer! At one point
Her partner swung her so that the back of her head
Almost touched the floor.
And I remember a few days later
How, sitting in class next to her,
She asked if I would take her to the senior prom,
I who couldn’t dance a lick
And in my shock
I made up some excuse
And hating myself, for she was a beauty
As well as great dancer
And I even thought about it over the years
And then, finally, some sixty-five years later
In Death Notices in the morning paper
There she is, middle-aged-looking and still a beauty
And I wondered did she ever remember
Anything of that time,
Oh that time
That poor Wimpo can’t forget to this day
The Dancer Poem © Seymour Shubin 2013
Horns of Life Poem by Seymour Shubin
Horns of Life
It was evening and the first
of the horns could be heard
In the distance
And my brother Aaron barely sixteen
Was going out with a friend
And Aaron would be driving
And I’d be left alone
At home
My parents were going out
Too
And just as he was leaving
Aaron said
Would you like to come with
And oh boy would I
And so I sat in back
Aaron driving
Irving next him.
And first we went to a movie
And then for a fairly long drive
And we stopped somewhere for hot dogs,
And I loved the sound of horns in the distance,
As though announcing the best New Years of my life
And now of my thoughts
With Aaron long dead
And all of my friends
And I think of the horns
Echoing over Aaron’s grave
I only wish
He could hear them
Oh if he could hear them
With me.
***Photo from the caves in Lascaux in southwestern France
Half Ball – Poem by Seymour Shubin
Half-Ball
We played what we used to call half-ball
Which involves cutting a regular pimple ball in half
So you couldn’t hit it too far on a city street
Or driveway
Just far enough so you could get a hit
Or even a home run
He was a gentle boy, this boy, about two years older
Than the rest of us, maybe three.
Well, he played this one game in the driveway So full of life,
so when a neighbor came to our door
The next day with word that he’d died
And no one knew why, not even the doctors,
Just went to bed and died, This kid with the same
First name as mine, which made it even worse,
But not as bad as when we’d drive past the cemetery
On our frequent trips
to New York to visit my eldest sister
And her family
And as we drove by I would think of him in there
With all those ghostly old people.
But then a couple of years later
They built a highway
That by- passed the cemetery
I was glad at first
Until I realized how much
More lonely he might be.
At The Vet – Someday Poem by Seymour Shubin
Perhaps
The vet said, “Are you sure?”
And Glo said yes
But I was looking at the old girl
Walking around our feet, unknowing
And I said let’s take her home again
And see
But Glo said it’s too much of a mess.
Kind Glo who had brought Lady home
Many years ago and loved her
So we lifted the poor thing up
To the table
And she lay there, tail slapping
And I watched the needle go in
And the poor thing’s movements
Stopped almost immediately
And all I could think of
Was
Why not for human suffering
Perhaps me some day?