The Day After Thanksgiving Poem by Max Reif

1.
Dwayne and Bonnie and the kids
went kayaking down in Laguna Beach.
The rest of us went 'deli-surfing'—
wound up sitting around
yet another table,
eating and talking.
I said to my wife,
'Aren't you sick of food?
Why don't we open a place
full of tables and chairs,
and advertise,
'SIT AROUND A TABLE AND TALK.'
No food, no drink, no nothing.'
'I don't think anyone would come, ' she said.

2.
Went for a night walk
up on Naples Island,
a neighborhood of show houses
built around canals
right by the ocean,
known for its Christmas lights.

As mom and Barbara and I
walked along in a drizzle,
a gondola glided up behind us
like a black shadow.
A woman stood steering
with a pole in each hand.
Five or six people sat —
tourists, no doubt.

'Can you sing 'O Solo Mio''?
I called from our elevated walkway.
'I don't know that one. Something else? '
'Anything.'

A aria
began to rise
across the misty waters
the gondola was plying.
The world drowned in archetypes.
Even the rain seemed
to hold back, listening.

The boat sailed slowly past,
disappearing under a bridge.
Only the voice remained,
then silence.