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Gary Lehmann
http://garylehmann.purpledream.com |
Jenna Takes The Slope
04/24/04 |
Little Jenna overpowered the skis with an act of sheer will power.
Stiff and half fearful, she leaned forward from the waist, knees stiff as curtain rods.
Each particle of snow was her foe, each mound and furrow a formidable opponent.
Powerful Jenna took the hill by storm, a mental storm,
that encompassed her two brothers waiting cynically at the slope's bottom.
She willed herself not to fall, not to have the slightest trace of trying on her snowsuit.
Timid Jenna took not one sliver of a moment to enjoy the ride, not for a second.
There was no room for error. The snow simply had to part before her feet.
Neither a reckless teen nor a misguided beginner could distract her.
Proud Jenna sat in the clubhouse dangling her feet from the picnic bench sipping her cola.
She said little. Only occasionally could you see the sparkle in her eyes
that meant that Jenna knew she had done a very fine thing, despite what the boys had said.
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Reporting From Fallujah
05/10/04 |
I think it was the noise of the hob-nail boots on the stairs at the end
of the hall that first woke me.
In a place like this an abduction or disappearance is always possible
and it pays to make some plans.
I jumped from my bed and straightened the covers,
throwing two pillows against the wall.
I grabbed my bath robe and paddled toward the sliding glass door
that led to the open porch.
As I passed through the door,
I slipped the latch so it would lock behind me as I went out.
I just closed the door,
when I began to hear the pounding on the room door with a bludgeon.
I crawled under the plastic table
and backed myself into the far corner of the tiny porch.
Then I reached out for the leg of one chair to further obstruct the view.
That was all I could do.
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Sunrise On The Mountain
05/26/04 |
The earth takes a deep breath
and shudders in its nightgown
just as the very tops of the trees create
a faint silhouette along ragged fringes
Individual leaves stand out
and then burst into flame
as early rays ignite
green drapery and fingery supports
Now the full orchestration enters
blaring trumpets and blasting percussive
messages into the darkness
a full panoply of sounds
Whole trees stand like actors on a stage
backlit by a powerful glowing inner force
The eye is overrun like the sea bursting in on the land
Dawn has shaken off night and stalks the earth
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The Kindest Cut
06/10/04 |
She has tried to cut me every time we have met.
She goes out of her way to contradict me,
Then uses phrases like "I don't mean to be rude..."
To suggest that she means exactly that.
My reaction, naturally, has been surprise.
When I don't recoil, it upsets her.
Her sharp edge glances off my indifference.
And rebounds upon her as if I were the progenitor of her rebuke.
It gives me such pleasure to see her squirm.
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Second Sight
12/04/04 |
I had a cataract removed from one eye. The doctor rolled up the bandages very slowly.
Suddenly the world was so bright, florescent, even magical. I couldn't believe what I saw.
The colors even in his bland office were so vivid, the textures unexpectedly rich in detail.
Then, I glanced at myself in the doctor's mirror. Who is that woman?
Her pale features, the rough texture of her skin, the heavy grooves under her eyes.
When did she get to be that age? Oh my God, could that be who I have become?
My doctor said, "You've been looking at yourself through rose lenses
that were last used to shoot Elizabeth Taylor on a sunshiny day. Let her go.
Accept yourself. Everyone else accepts this Toni Morrison. Why shouldn't you?"
I couldn't stop staring in the mirror. It was too horrifying for words.
When did I become this old woman? Where was I looking when this visage overtook me?
How did this happen, to me - a sparky youthful athlete still in high school?
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Wicked Habits
01/06/05 |
A mime from the streets of Paris
was drafted into the army,
but the long handled canister grenade
became his undoing.
One day he was juggling
two sticks of firewood
when a long-handled canister grenade
came lobbing over the hedgerow
right in the rotation.
With the flick of a wrist,
he created the more-natural three way juggle
for one brief --but enduring-- second.
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What Adam Wants For Christmas
01/01/07 |
“I saw you cuddled up with Adam earlier on the sofa.
Did you ask what he wants for Christmas?” my wife inquired.
“He says he only wants one thing this year,
but I'm not sure we can get it for him.”
“What can a 5 year old think to want?”
“He wants an elf – a real one. Raising a finger of warning,
he made that very clear. It has to be real.”
“Did you ask him how he defines real?”
“Yes, he said you can tell an elf by his long pointy ears.”
“How tall is a real elf?”
“About 6 inches shorter than Adam.
Then I asked him What does a real elf do?
Whatever you ask him, daddy, he said impatiently.”
“Do you think he's trying to tell us we don't answer
his demands fast enough any more?
He needs his own personal slave.”
“Well, he looked at me with one of those blank expressions
as if I'd just fallen considerably in his estimation.
He could tell I was struggling.
My friend Nick has one—a real one, he offered.
I thought I'd cracked it now.
So where does your friend Nick live? I asked.
I thought we might call his parents to get the story.
Adam just looked at me again, sadly, and replied,
Elves live at the North Pole, daddy.
Now, what do we do?”
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Tormented By Mosquitoes, July 22, 1944
07/31/08 |
The rainy season is over.
It has suddenly gotten very hot.
I have no incense or mosquito net.
I spent a sleepless night swatting at them.
The mosquitoes attacked all night
with no mercy for my old body
worse than the enemy planes.
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