A woman walked in, sat next to my desk,
said, “You know, my son is insane.”
“And you are…”
“The mother of Irving Mandelbaum.”
Not looking a bit like Iriving I said, ”Oh”
which she must taken the wrong way
because she said, “Last time I checked my pussy.”
“Oh” again, this time slowly rising
not wanting to upset the woman
whose hand suddenly gripped my wrist
preventing any further escape.
Taking a different path I asked, “Do you
work out? ” my entire arm now throbbing.
“Not taking Thorazine any more, ” she said smiling,
then moving closer whispered, “From his father,
the insanity, not me.”
Another try: “Iriving’s a bit high strung but…”
Even closer now saying, “You saved
my dear Iriving’s life.”
A smell: marijuana, honey, bananas in deep decay,
possibly all three.
“Without you he’d be by now a dead fat boy.”
“I try, ” I said, always glad to hear I did a bit of good,
although in this case couldn’t figure out my gift.
“He writes poetry, ” she said, tears now
moving even closer breasts an inch from my face
nipples doing something under the tight shirt,
finally, “All because of you
calm now, calmer, blowing fart bubbles
in the bathtub, scribbling away with the special
underwater pen I bought him.”
I stared at the mother of Irving Mandelbaum
calmer myself
her happiness somehow
shifted into me.
Charles Chaim Wax
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/open-school-night-at-spinoza-hs/
