Walowitz with front door not ajar
Anecdote of a Jar
                  (not much after Wallace Stevens)
by Alan Walowitz

Been a long week already
and she knows I’m on my way
bearing standard Thursday-night fare—
so she texts, as usual, The front door’s a jar.
This pleases me– always–
and I answer, in kind,
stuck at the long light just west of Gino’s,
eager but untrained thumbs
not exactly flashing:
Why is nothing what it seems?–
she knows I’m not ready
for such drastic change
so late in the game.

Then, from the upstairs window, she sees
me at my most entertaining:
I pull up, juggling pizza and my keys,
kicking the car closed with my knee
which will ache for days,
while keeping a firm grip on my cap
about to be torn away from my head
in the late winter wind,
as I try to stay upright on the slippery grass.
Then, keys in my teeth, shoulder the front door
which gives way easy
and, I note, will need some paint come spring,
and enter a dark house–
like a thief in the night–
wondering why such a faithful one, and witty,
who can make any door a jar
never remembers to make some light.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I love Wallace Stevens’ “Anecdote of the Jar,” though I hardly understand it.  I wanted to write my own jar-anecdote.  Since I love to play with words, here it is.  Though certainly not so deep and mysterious as Stevens’, I had fun writing it.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Alan Walowitz is a Contributing Editor at Verse-Virtual, an Online Community Journal of Poetry.  His chapbook Exactly Like Love was published by Osedax Press, and his full-length The Story of the Milkman and Other Poems is available from Truth Serum Press.  His current project is a chapbook, written with Betsy Mars, tentatively titled In the Muddle of the Night, and tentatively to be published by Arroyo Seco Press.