Thursday, November 01, 2007



for dinner some soup from
the deli and a loaf of french
bread. i sit at the table where
the typewriter is, and with the
voice off on the television i read
the newspaper while i eat.
for two days now i've been
feeling ill, not able to type much
or even cook for myself.
it's even a chore just to page
through the paper looking for
something worth reading.
god, i'm so sick and tired of
living alone. to be sick
and to have no one to care
for you is a sad situation to
come to. this soup is good
though. the deli it comes from
is run by an old italian woman
and she really knows what she's
doing. and she gives you
so much that i'll have enough
for tomorrow night's dinner too.
i just hope the loaf of bread
stays fresh until then.
moving my spoon slowly
i daydream about living with
a woman who also is a good
cook. it's a comforting daydream.
i see the soup being brought to me
as i sit up in bed, and she even
tucks a napkin under my chin.
is this too much to ask for in life?
i don't think so. after i'm finished
with the soup she dabs my lips
with the napkin and asks me if
i'd care for anything else and
whether i'm comfortable or not.
as i look up from my sick bed
i see the face of an angel. yes,
an italian angel who makes
the best minestrone with
white beans and sausage soup
ever. i can actually smell
fennel on her fingers.
before leaving the room she
tells me that in order not to
disturb me she's going to sleep
on the couch. and with
these words i begin to
immediately get better.
that I end up sleeping
on the couch also is no
big surprise.

Ronald Baatz
Mt tremper/01

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