He Let The Light Stay Out
The muted light
walk-in closet
caught his eye
on a Friday
just before he
set sail
on the clouds
and songs
He should change it
he thought
the dead bulb
but he chose not to
as if to make a point
that he was indeed needed
to mount the step ladder
and carefully stand
unscrewing with both hands
equilibrium compromised
standing off the ground
eyes looking up
just as a mystic <knight> might
having transcended the body
outstretched toward the heavens
the light within reaching
the methodical tedium
of finding the ladder
walking past the cat box
into another closet
the one in the darkest corner
middle of the house
where the bulbs, filters and vacuums
slept waiting to be useful
the long dark days of nothing
forgotten completely
once he found the bulbs
he would need to surmise
which ones to use
she had bought old
incandescents
They were horribly
inefficient
easily breakable
into fine shreds of glass
creating unneeded heat
and not lasting longer than
6 months
he preferred LED
their cold efficiency
and long life
why she didn’t understand
their superiority he could not
fathom
he could deliberately overlook hers
reach for the slick plastic bulbs
and place them into the
pockets of his athletic shorts
as a tennis pro single-handedly
puts his balls during play
she being an admitted
Fed-Head
She had recently left their bed
in the middle of their maui nights
to watch him dismantle opponent
after opponent
live from Wimbledon
His hope was that somehow
the magic of hawaii would rekindle
their lost love
But, Roger, cold, efficient, ruthless
got more play than he did
Being petty and jealous
He was secretly happy Djokovic
defeated the perfect swiss male specimen
in historic, heart breaking fashion.
He let the light stay out
each time he walked into the closet
he took some pleasure in the darkness
above her dresser
Then one day he walked into his
tiny shitter
The house they bought together when
they became suddenly wealthy was big
spread out, open
But, the shitter in the master bath
was barely enough to walk into
she refused to use it
it made her claustrophobic
So, it had become his shitter
now that that light had gone out
To change it would mean
he would have to clearly, deliberately
avoid the closet light
which was only feet from his shitter
It would be dimly obvious
So, he let the shitter light stay dark
he sat cheeks spread on the throne
confident in his plan to eventually
let every light expire
until it became obvious
that he was indeed needed
for something involving
male and female parts screwing
For some weeks it went on like this. The habitual flipping of the switch resulting in nothing but darkness. Nothing was done. Nothing was said. Then the ironic lamp in the living room quit. The hallway, the laundry room, the guest room, the kitchen, the pantry, the study. It went on like this for months, years. Until there was no light left working in the whole house. She said nothing. He did nothing. Their faces glued to their phones in the dimness or evenings seemed unconcerned. Until one night she asked him if he could maybe change the light in the closet.
He found the step ladder, made his way into the utility closet of the lost, pulled out the incandescents bulbs and stood in the middle of the darkness reaching towards the socket screwing like Roger Federer laying out for a return. She half smiled and said thank you. They sat together in the living room watching the light spill out into the hall.
RIBCAST 19 THE MUD AND GLORY