Times Of Endearment During Courtship (To Paula On Christmas 1983) Poem by Bob Genevro

I.
You abandoned your marriage cottage
decorated with wallpaper of wilted roses.
Your South African diamond ring now
a penny arcade plastic band.

Our life began
when you rang my dusty red phone
and asked me out.

II.
On our first date
we rambled in my dented brown Maverick
to the Hillsdale Maul.
Christmas lights blinked.
Salvation army Santas jingled.

In elevator pods
the Mormon Tabernacle Choir
chanted 'jingle bell rock'.

Mr. T and SCAREface Al Pacino
stole five golden rings
from security guard Gregorio Cortex.

At Woolworth's
we sipped mai-tais
and slurped greasy noodles.

In a nearby movie theater
Debra Winger died from a lumpy armpit
and astronaut Jack Nicholson from
poisonous mistletoe.

iii.
We dashed away down El Camino
swift as eight tiny reindeer.
We talked of taking hikes up El Capitan
in search of golden acorns
and Southern Pacific train rides
from Victoria Station
to the Panama Root Canal.

After your dental assistant Christmas parties
and Linda's golden wedding adversity bash,
we shall clink our eggnog glasses
to future Christmas-es
and especially
to dusty red telephones.