Charles A. Perrone

A Perfect Match                To the twenty matches in this book. ||||||||||||||||||||

He opened the bottom drawer
for no other reason than that it
hadn't been touched for decades.
Inside the smart sliding compartment
he performed a re-discovery of a trove,
ems, memos, mementos, and memoirs:
so many dozens and more of matchbook covers
that she had managed to collect from scale bars, 
aptly named hair salons, thoughtful restaurants,
and other assorted in-out outlets or top venues,
here, there, and everywhere, hic et nunc et alia,
from omni sources, everyone, and at all times,
work, play, travel off, on board, or otherwise.
Thus was he able to have a chance to recall
that she had a made a careful personal point
to pinch and remove each and every match
from their books or their packs of any size
before tossing them onto a full-grown pile,
planning to torch the assembly all at once
in a grandiose pyre of all-in fury and farewell.

||||||||||||||||||||. To the twenty matches in this book.                A Perfect Match

She selected the top-right drawer                               because it was so clearly labeled                               "Open Me" and within: calendars.                              Stacks of them in the rolling tray.                               Plain black-and-white and photo-filled.                               Twelve-month leafs, hanging chronicles,                               poems, proverbs, advertising, advice,                               the collective wisdom of places galore,                               casinos, barber shops, middling hamlets,                              raceways, play spaces, shooting ranges,                               and enterprises of endearing endeavor                               everywhere, even fairs and not so fair                               encounters with others and judgments.                               So she could be counted on to remember                               that he had a made an individual pledge                               to write his initials on page thirteen                               of each & every calendar of the cohort                               and to indicate his intention to gather                               them all and to toss an incendiary match                               chosen to burn history as he took his leave.                              
Charles A. Perrone is a retired academic living back home on the Central Coast of California, between the Redwoods and the Ocean.
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Blogger Charles A. Perrone said...

My thanks MY

3:38 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Very good poems. In the movie "Paterson", the poet Adam_Bus_Driver also wrote a good poem about matches.

10:00 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

The comment above is all mine. I am not Anonymous. My name is Luiz Roberto Guedes and Professor Perrone knows my whereabout.

1:56 PM  

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