Morning at the Office

General Convention

Thursday, October 05, 2006

October Surprise

Hello, everyone, this time will be a little bit different. We've had some hymns so far and some religion/politics the two things we're not supposed to talk about.
Now we'll have something a little more highbrow. No, I don't mean someone who needs to tweeze across their eyes. It's October, but no werewolves yet.
One of my favorite poets is Susan Powell. This is the title poem from her book "Women Who Paint Tall Houses". Superman just premiered so I guess this is appropriate.


Women who paint tall houses
could also be beautiful,
though you wouldn't expect it.
So when they come to do an estimate,
looking more like models than painters
you prepare yourself not to listen,
no matter what the price is,
even if they guarantee their work
and promise you a discount
at Benjamin Moore
because that's what they like
and it lasts.
The blond does most of the talking;
she's really a college professor,
but paints on the side
to keep in shape. Now you know
it's a scam. And her partner,
the dark one, just stands there
staring with those incredible eyes,
daring you to change your mind
and give them the job anyway.
Then finally, because she sees
it's no use, says you don't have to pay
if you're not satisfied..
She's that sure of their work.
So you hear yourself agreeing
to the terms, half up front
for materials, and half when it's done,
though you know your wife
will have a fit when she sees them
dangling out there on those tall ladders,
those delicate hands dipping brushes
into red paint, but you do it anyway
as a favor to those marvelous bodies
staying in shape, maybe even improving
with the help of your house.
You almost wish it were worse
than they said, more scraping, more priming
to keep them busy longer, especially if they
wear shorts, especially if you can find a way
to get rid of your wife for a week or so,
and ask for another estimate
on the interior.

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