By Dave Hood
On the bedside table
rests the digital clock radio,
a gift from a long time, live in
who shouted goodbye, then slammed the door
walked away, a few weeks ago.
Now before bedtime
to wake himself next morning
the former Hipster, newly anointed Yuppie
whose recently tasted the pleasures of success
just promoted for exceptional effort and results,
must set the alarm on the clock,
to buzz at 6:00 A.M.
like the evening ritual
performed by his former girlfriend
who would shake him out of sleep
whisper in his ear,
“Time to wake up, or you’ll be late for work.”
Then he lays in the double bed
feeling the grief of loss
wondering whether hard work
was worth the end of his relationship,
recalling the memories of their love,
ended by neglect,
like a red rose that withers from a lack of attention.
He’ll contemplate for several hours,
in the darkness of the night
finally drifting into a restless sleep,
listening to peaceful music of jazz,
the likes of Miles Davis playing the soothing sounds
on his trumpet,
John Coltrane playing relaxing ballads
on his saxophone….
The digital clock radio—-
unappreciated, ignored for so long—
like his departed girlfriend,
has become a treasured comfort
during the course of these
late night hours of sorrow.