While Watching “Young and Innocent” I Think Of My Mother (Sadoff)
While Watching “Young and Innocent” I Think Of My Mother, by Ira Sadoff (1945-)
Pull down the shades. Those waifs
and waitresses of the forties movies
remind me of you. Stood up again!
So where was he now? Out on the town
with some hussy while you waited
by the window in your nightgown, smoking
and cursing in that old stuffed chair —
waiting was what you did best.
The table was always set for three:
you and me and the father, the angel
of absence. Did he take off his shoes
at the door, hoping to pass invisible?
Was there lipstick on his cheek?
In those days there was theater
in every motion, every emotion.
The handsome man with thinning hair
couldn’t keep his hands off women,
could he? Thank the lord it’s over now.
I want to know: What sight did the window
hold? A neighbor slamming a door,
the filmy blossoms of the pear tree
and its fallen fruit. Always left alone.
Impossible to take it seriously, to bear
the weight. Now you’re far away, I conjure
this image up. In the movie, you’re the brunette
stood up under a streetlight, your shadow
etched in fog and smoke. Light up
another cigarette. Lighten up those memories.
The man you wanted won’t be coming home tonight.