Nothing Happened

I’m not
Going to write a poem
About the man who came to install the cable
Because nothing happened,
I barely remember him,
And there was nothing remarkable about it.

So I’m not
Going to talk about him
Except perhaps to say
That his name may have been Stan
And I believe he had a firm handshake.

That means I’m not
Going to describe
How his eyes were bluer than pilot lights,
How he looked at me when he told me his aunt
Went to school with Suzanne Sommers and we talked about language
And how he didn’t laugh
When I said that I love diagramming sentences.

Also, I’m not
Going to discuss
How retro and appealing his sideburns were
Or how my fingers twitched to brush the hair from his forehead
And to swat from his jacket the dust bunnies he accumulated in our basement.

And I’m not-
Most definitely I’m not-
Going to give any attention
To the chuckle, the slight hesitation in his voice
When he said, “You need to initial this if you’re satisfied.
Are you satisfied?”
Because I’m sure he flirts with all the women like that and
Because satisfied comes from the Latin satis;
Too closely related to satura and satire and

Because I’m not
Some sad Emily Dickinson-type
Who prattles on about
Chance encounters with handsome strangers
Because she has no life.
I have a life
In which a lot of interesting things happen.
Except for yesterday.
Yesterday nothing happened.
Oh…yeah. A man did come to install the cable
But there was nothing remarkable about it at all.


1 Response to “Nothing Happened”

  1. March 12, 2009 at 15:55

    This made my heart go pitter patter quite a bit. Really great poem!

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