Three Poems

[Paul Rigby]

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Mr. Wakefield on Interstate 90

by Donald Hall

“Now I will abandon the route of my life
as my shadowy wives abandon me, taking my children.
I will stop. I will park in a summer street
where the days tick like metal in the stillness.
Then I will rent the room over Bert’s Modern Barbershop
where the TO LET sign leans in the plateglass window;
or I will buy the brown BUNGALOW FOR SALE.

“I will work forty hours a week clerking at the paintstore.
On Fridays I will cash my paycheck at Six Rivers Bank
and stop at Harvey’s Market and talk with Harvey.
Walking on Maple Street I will speak to everyone.
At basketball games I will cheer for my neighbors’ sons.
I will watch my neighbors’ daughters grow up, marry,
raise children. The joints of my fingers will stiffen.

“There will be no room inside me for other places.
I will attend funerals regularly and weddings.
I will chat with the mailman when he comes on Saturdays.
I will shake my head when I hear of the florist
who drops dead in the greenhouse over a flat of pansies;
I spoke with her only yesterday . . .
When lawyer elopes with babysitter I will shake my head.

“When Harvey’s boy enlists in the Navy
I will wave goodbye at the Trailways Depot with the others.
I will applaud the valedictorian at graduation,
and wish her well, as she goes away to the University,
and weep, as she goes away. I will live in a steady joy;
I will exult in the ecstasy of my concealment.
The only mystery is the mystery of the ordinary.”

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