PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

[after J. V. Cunningham's poem, "Monday Morning"]

Saturday always began with the end
of Friday afternoon's classes.  These were
followed by visiting the grocery
store; and then a hot, steaming, huge pizza
brought home to eat because my parents did
not like to pay the sales tax to eat in.
Once in a while, the grocery store's racks
of magazines offered an issue of
Eerie.  Friday night had the best prime time
television, and an hour later for
bedtime; meanwhile scrutinizing each page
of the new Eerie.  Saturday morning
began with cartoons, donuts for breakfast,
and a cup of steaming hot tea---all of
this forbidden on the duller schooldays.
By mid-morning, my best friend (five lots south)
came by, and we scrutinized each page of
the new Eerie; or an older issue,
if a newer one had not been obtained.
At 4:45 we parted for the day.
At 5:00, a half hour of the Three Stooges
preceded the whole weekend's great treasure---
Shock Theater, and its package of the
Univeral Monsters.  Its hour and a
half passed quickly, too quickly, and just like
any other pleasure in my life.  This
was followed by desperate wave of
emotion---among my hoarded issues
of Eerie and the Aurora Model
Company's seven major monsters from
the Universal collection.  Because
we were not in or of the "church people"
(as my parents had designated them),
Sundays were simply another day to
mourn Saturday's all too swift passing from
my grasp, leaving me with only its soft
memory, with magazines and plastic
models of monsters gathered around me---
comforters around a nine year old Job---
with the cold prospect of Monday morning's
dread proximity, and endless classes,
and the cold gazes of other pupils
with whom I never quite connected then.

Starward

[jlc]