Friday, November 9th, 2012...4:28 pm

ronald baatz | the turquoise door

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Last night I told my wife, as we were drifting like
two sleepless sheep in bed, she shouldn’t worry

that I might be alone if she were to die first.
This seems to be a nagging concern of hers,

one that she nags herself with and on occasion
will mention to me. I told her last night, as we

were drifting like two sleepless sheep, that if
I were to outlive her, god forbid, I would marry Betty,

and though happiness would not be mine from
the very beginning, in time, I’m sure, both joy and

contentment would make a new home in my heart.
Unfortunately, my telling her this did not seem

to ease the tension possessing her eyes that
looked like two large brown worry beads. So,

she said to me, “Betty who?” And as quick as
a rabbit on dead grass I replied, “Betty Who, the

waitress at the Happy Kitchen Chinese Restaurant,
where we’ve been going every New Year’s Eve

for Pineapple Duck for the past ten years.”
She asks me how long I’ve been seeing Betty Who.

I tell her for ten years. “When exactly?”
“Every New Year’s Eve.” “When she’s waiting on us?”

“Yeah.” “What makes you think this beautiful woman
would want anything to do with a grizzled piece of

decrepitude like yourself?” “If she didn’t, then I’d resort
to the black waitress at the diner.” “What’s her name?”

“Sarah What.” “And just what makes you think that that
lovely lady would tolerate the self-absorbed dimwit you’ve

so successfully become.” I say nothing. “If she tells you to go
take a hike, then what will you do?” “Funny you should ask,

I was thinking we should try that new Mexican restaurant
at the edge of town, that place with the turquoise door

that’s enshrined so invitingly with those tiny Christmas lights.”

1 Comment

  • Have been reading Mr Baatz’ s poetry for years, first l noticed that Ronald is beautifully not present in many of his poems, his observation of life is digested,pared down and put out with as much reality as he can make palatable to himself and his readers,and sometimes there just damn fun.but always real.

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