Tag Archives: Bob Meszaros

Discipline

June 1953, the second-floor classroom is motionless in the heat. Miss Johnson balances the long white wooden pole above us. The muscles of her short thick arms are knotted; moisture thickens on her upper lip. She hooks the pole end … Continue reading

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Together at Eighty

April, and the mallards are back. First, the hens; then, the drakes: one by one they drop feet first into our sun-struck leafless pond. Days of flapping wings, of head pumping and endless preening, of grunts and low-toned whistles, of … Continue reading

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Cut Flowers

You never liked them: beautiful but rootless. Spring was your season: you sat by the open window watching crocuses and tulips outside grabbing hold. In December you were admitted— a borrowed hothouse room, its windows sealed: cut flowers filled a … Continue reading

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Automobile Design: The Absence of Restraints

Sunset, a high tide full of sand on thighs, of salt on sun-browned skin. A day of baking in the sun; now every look and touch is fire. Forty miles of interstate to get home. You and I are last … Continue reading

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A Model for My Son

I sit in a small abandoned office space in Brighton. Outside, the traffic on North Beacon pulses. Inside, the air conditioner deadens sound. High on the wall behind my son his most recent paintings hang:             sunlight curls beneath a turnpike … Continue reading

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The Icebox

First, by horse-drawn wagon; then truck— fourteen hundred deliveries a day in winter; four thousand in the summer when the sun’s heat waited for an open door. Wagons, trucks, horses                                     and rubber-aproned men       all packed in sawdust                                           preservers lost to … Continue reading

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The Wedding

The bride is in remission: she wears white the color of her skin. Her mother is matron of honor. Her sisters sing. She and her bridegroom sit in chairs before the altar, a dispensation granted by the priest. The church … Continue reading

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