Volume 27, Number 2

Glendora Group Home Takes an Outing

We sat at our scrolls when they appeared. One glance, I knew him for a knight puissant and fair, bien fait and courteous, though he wore scullion’s garb, the shiny board shorts, the promotional T-shirt. They paused and perforce he halted. Gracious he besought my favor, asked about our small magics. We are writing poems I averred and, like any knight of the court, he knew troubadours’ arts, joined our song—

The sun comes up,
the sun goes down.
The moon goes up,
The moon comes down

—and surveyed my amazement, offering his valor for our shield.

            He showed his prouesse
            and his sore state
            his gentilesse
            and his dolour.

            He praised me: fair,
            worthy of love
            and noble state—

            Alas, he bore a geas
            shriving him of sweet
            solace, though he were fitted
            in all ways.

            All sorrowful, his plaint.

Did you write this page? Did you justify this margin?
Do you take meds? Prescribed meds?
Do they give you side effects?
Me too.

You’re a beautiful woman.
Are you married? Do you have a child?
A house?

I’ve never had a girlfriend.
That sounds lonely.
Yes. Yes it is.

—Karen Greenbaum-Maya