Gene McCormick- Three Poems & Art

Career Move

She wins the secretarial job,

the successful applicant

at 50 wpm, no dictation, but

catches the eye of the employer.

They celebrate with martinis

over lunch, a hotel key, and a

synchronization of

social calendars to avoid

spousal encroachment.

That was the ‘60’s.

And ‘70’s.

‘80’s, too.

 Girl Watcher

Sitting at a table to the rear of the restaurant,

a dessert plate of baked walnuts before him

--a treat laced with ginger, sugar, cinnamon—

wondering why, he being so much older,

why do young, unformed girls

too young to grasp consequences

look at him with side glances as they pass?

What is their point?

Why do they taunt?

What the hell are they trying to do?

Red Square

For no reason, none,

a twelve inch by ten inch remnant

of vermillion red silk lays

across an ironing board,

across a scorch-proof metallic cover.

Flat, not a wrinkle,

cool and smooth and

red, red, red silk, silky red

abandoned while the telephone

is answered, a robot calling.

The dimensions are not exactly

12”x10”, but nearly so

and the silk moves not an iota

during the interruption

though a spring wind wafts

through the window screen,

slides over the vermillion and

bumps against the far wall,

its grey flat latex paint

smooth as red silk,

as cool as patina

on a vintage brass doorknob

feels to the touch of

a lady’s fingertips.