Monday, March 19, 2007

Your Legs Look Like Your Pants Press

My home town is a quite town to which people travel to get married.
Because it is pretty. And people like wedding photos taken in rural
fields with lush, woodsy backgrounds. This is the Pierce house, which
is where people specifically like to get married. Next to it is the
lovely pond, Pierce pond, where I used to go frogging and catfishing.
I was pretty good at catching bullfrogs when I was younger. I used to
get annoyed because I would ride my bike over with a friend and we
would have nets and everything ready to go, but then a wedding would
be in mid-procession and they wouldn't want kids running around in the
weeds, putting frog eggs in mason jars. One time, my Dad and I thought
it would be funny to put the bullfrog we caught in a cookie tin and
give it to my mother. My mother screamed and threw the frog and the
cookie tin across the garage. I was young enough not to completely
understand how "there is a frog where there should be cookies, get
it?" was a suprise that could actually be a bit frightening if a
mother was actually expecting cookies from a small child with curly
blond hair and dimples. See, my hometown upbringing taught me a lesson
in...Well, what I really wanted to tell you was that the last time I
went to this pond, I brought my close friend MW to show her the area
and as we parked my car and walked closer to the pond, I felt like the
pond looked bigger than usual. Which is usually the opposite reaction
one has to re-visiting childhood sites. Anyways, as we walked closer,
it turned out that the pond hadn't expanded, but that the 5 other
people admiring the pond happened to be a family of midgets. An all
midget family. And one of the midget kids got really excited to see me
and MW and took MW by the hand to show her where the big bullfrogs
were hiding...

Look, this is either: A) a ramble that I just can't for the life of me
wrap up or B) a very circuitous scheme to get you to come to my poetry
reading in Cambridge MA on May 5th. Cambridge is 15 minutes from my
town, Lincoln, so people can come stay at my old home if they travel
from afar to hear me read. And I will give everyone a tour of this
pond, along with Walden pond, the Gropius house, and many other woody,
amazing adventures.

In fact, until May 5th, I will occasionally subject you to photos of
my hometown until you can no longer resist the temptation to come.
Also, we have a trampoline that's just calling out your name. I will
teach you how to play Last Man Standing.

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