24 November 2006

the nest

it grew between your shoulderblades in a dream i had that meant you and me and as you came to say a missing of more than one more day.

the teapot

do you remember that teapot we had? the white one. it was a city store purchase, late one night after riding the escalator in there for hours. we had thought to ourselves, well well we do need a tea pot.

a water kettle, as his mom would say now.
after you left and after i moved out too and after jo said it was his last month in the old place, i snuck back in on a random trip to the city. it was there on the stove..it gleamed brillantly, dusty and covered with too many nights of misuse. i carried it silently up the back stairs and to my car and away into the afternoon like i had snuck some prize, a glowing white orb with iron spout that meant we were once not as far as we are now.

it felt like an egg ready to hatch.

i have had the teapot for so long now that the insides began to go on the thing. it had since stopped whisteling and i had become more distracted, i guess. there would days it would boil dry before i noticed and it cracked up all the paint inside. i finally figured on retiring the thing, but it lingered on shelved cellar entyways and in cupboards for another year or so.
it moved from vine street with me, without much protest from alex, because i had said repeatedly "well, it's a good tea pot. a fine device" and that was enough for him not to question it too much.
this fall when i started teaching, out on the playground were lots of people's old teapots...maybe even a couple couples' old tea pots..but i was sure none had been as fine as mine.
after many afternoons of sand tea, i decided maybe my teapot could have a good life here under the poplars in the tiny manie village where i have come to spend most days. without record i just dropped it in the sandbox one day.

i watch like a mother hawk.

everyday at the end of school i do one final search, under the slide, up under the big tree's root, back behind the nursery, and inside of the boat we have here, one last search for the teapot, that white round egg-now broken a handle, now missing a lid, one last search for you and for me.