Run-in
I was working at The Orchard tonight, and had a fun and strange run-in with an old acquaintance. His name was Mike, and at first he did not recognize me. Mike and I were in a creative writing class together over at Washtenaw Community college 15 years ago. I had a clear recollection of one story he wrote. It featured a salesman so nervous about sales to the point where his body sweat was so bad, he had to pack sponges to place under his arms, and replacement sponges for after lunch.
We talked for a good 30 minutes ( I did end up selling him something), and we slowly remembered things about each other. He had a lot more information about the other folks in the class than I did. We had a nice little group. There was another guy, Dave, who Mike became good friends with. There was also a girl who joined our group (she wrote this poem about her hips that made me crazy). We would meet outside of class, swap things we had been working on and drink beers. Turns our the girl (what was her name?) became an apartment manager, and had to evict Dave from an apartment years later. Dave moved in with Mike (they had become really good friends) for a day, and then took off to Chicago, never to be heard from again.
But Mike had more news. The woman who taught the class has become a somewhat successful writer. I recall her as very much finding her way at the time. She was an aspiring poet, and I think it was one of the first classes she had ever taught. I remember a great poem and melancholy poem she wrote about Solomon Grundy ( the original, not the one from the comic books ("Solomon Grundy smash!"), though I suppose that would make a good poem too). Her name is Laura Kasischke, and she has a number of poetry collections, and three novels to her credit.
Time was an encounter like this would make me sad. What ever happened to that guy who wrote stories and poems? Have i given up everything for a job and house and kids. Blah, blah, blah. Not today. Today it was simply a nice encounter with someone who I had a brief relationship with a long time ago.
We talked for a good 30 minutes ( I did end up selling him something), and we slowly remembered things about each other. He had a lot more information about the other folks in the class than I did. We had a nice little group. There was another guy, Dave, who Mike became good friends with. There was also a girl who joined our group (she wrote this poem about her hips that made me crazy). We would meet outside of class, swap things we had been working on and drink beers. Turns our the girl (what was her name?) became an apartment manager, and had to evict Dave from an apartment years later. Dave moved in with Mike (they had become really good friends) for a day, and then took off to Chicago, never to be heard from again.
But Mike had more news. The woman who taught the class has become a somewhat successful writer. I recall her as very much finding her way at the time. She was an aspiring poet, and I think it was one of the first classes she had ever taught. I remember a great poem and melancholy poem she wrote about Solomon Grundy ( the original, not the one from the comic books ("Solomon Grundy smash!"), though I suppose that would make a good poem too). Her name is Laura Kasischke, and she has a number of poetry collections, and three novels to her credit.
Time was an encounter like this would make me sad. What ever happened to that guy who wrote stories and poems? Have i given up everything for a job and house and kids. Blah, blah, blah. Not today. Today it was simply a nice encounter with someone who I had a brief relationship with a long time ago.