Maybe
by William Aarnes
[ poetry - may 08 ]
She tells her mother, "My courses
are good, especially Genetics."
But when she gets her step-mother
on the cell she confides
that so far sophomore year
is like maybe staying at a party
until dawn: "See, past weary
of being merry, I found myself
half slipping off an ottoman
and having to grip the shoulder
of a classmate in both Pysch
and Research and Analysis,
a guy who, posing as The Thinker,
maundered on about his having
no career plans, except maybe,
if he could chance upon
a thirty-ish programmer
who moonlights as an accompanist
at a lounge in some chain motel,
why, then, he'd devote his evenings
to doting on her till maybe
she came over to ask his age...
Don't tell Dad but, see, this year's
like this self-absorbed drunk
suddenly standing to stagger off
with me hanging on so maybe
I can keep my balance."
