mac & cheese & jeter & poetry

Sitting on the couch thinking about macaroni and cheese (perhaps embellished with a couple of sliced Hebrew National hotdogs), watching the Yankee/Twins game and reading a slim book of poetry called Heroes and Householders by Steve Turtell between innings. Some of his poems are good and they make me jealous because I’ve never been sentimental enough or mad enough to write poetry. I’m good at limericks because the form pleases me; it’s restrictive and you have to count the syllables for it to work. Having your mind in the gutter helps too, for that’s what limericks are (or are supposed to be): smut in rhyme and as insulting as possible. Watching baseball is easy; poetry is hard. Good (or bad) stuff on the diamond is always replayed over and over so, even with bathroom breaks, you don’t miss a thing and, anyway, there’s always a nice recap in the morning paper.

Although these poems should probably be dipped into randomly I read them chronologically, first to last. “Great heroes and warriors perform their deeds” is the first line of the first poem (about a mundane, but very sharp, kitchen knife; “Lead me by the tongue to heaven” the last line of the last (it’s about pears, smut brain). In between there is a lot of deep thoughts about a lot of other stuff—some much too personal for my shallow persona. Sometimes I’m not sure I’m getting them and there are no replays to corroborate first impressions. In the meantime Derek Jeter cements his place in sports history and I am more than pleased to bear witness. Driven by forceful gusts of wind, heavy rain is testing the resiliency of the window glass. The Friday-difficult New York Times crossword is laughing at me with empty squared teeth. The water is on for the mac and cheese; perhaps a dash of pesto to jazz up the Kraft?