A Poem by Michael Estabrook

Retired, we only have one car,
and the wife . . . well she’s the boss you know
like all wives are
can be stingy with the car, need it
for a “business meeting”
or some special shopping urgency blah blah blah
hey wait a minute I’m the man of the house aren’t I?

I’m gonna demand the use of that car today
I’m gonna march right up to her and stare into
her pretty shining brown eyes
and state sternly
like I really mean it “I’m using the car today toots
whether you like it or not. Put that
in your pipe and smoke it!”
Well, on second thought.


When Our Eyes Would Meet At The Station

A Poem by Michael Estabrook

One Friday night the winter of 1971
I got the last seat on the bus home, back row
in the middle, the worst seat.
Sleet and snow turned
the one hour ride into two
and the woman beside me fell asleep
on my shoulder her name was Jean,
24 years old working at Fortunoff’s
in New York City.

She was tall, pretty and pleasant,
with long brown hair. We’d say hi
when our eyes would meet at the station.
I liked her and watched her closely
could tell she hated it when men—
especially middle-aged businessmen
with plump wives and kids in college—
made passes at her.

But I never did that, I only said hi
when our eyes would meet at the station.
But that was enough for me
because I was young, life
was still a mystery
and she never
fell asleep on any of their shoulders
like she had on mine.

Magic Dragon

A Poem by Michael Estabrook

In Studio Grow Children’s Play Space
with our two granddaughters:

stacking blocks into barns, buildings and bridges
knocking them down again

climbing over the wooden slat bridge then crawling
through the long slinky plastic tunnel to freedom

making salads and waffles and triple-decker burgers
in the play kitchen then play-eating them

assembling a tall chimney on Tom the Builder’s Lego House
that he shares with Nurse Betty and sometimes Dr. John

doing a dinosaur puzzle and a farm animal puzzle
sometimes mixing them up into a confused clutter

playing a turtle, a seagull, and a tiger
in the Make Believe Puppet Theatre laughing

uncontrollably as the bar holding the curtains
falls down

Then Peter, Paul and Mary’s Puff
comes on over the studio stereo

and suddenly I’m struggling
to hold back tears no idea why

A Swarming of Bees

A Work of Prose by Michael Estabrook

Last spring the bees were swarming searching for a new place to build a hive. Such a rare and special event you are so blessed the Bee Huggers tell us. And it is a marvel, almost romantic, watching them collect, 40,000 workers strong surrounding their Queen.

But we should have them removed: “They could sting the grandchildren or end up in your eaves or walls or chimney and then you’ll have real problems.” So we pay $525 to have the soccer ball sized swarm hanging from a branch above our driveway removed. The Bee Busters don’t use chemicals, don’t kill them, that’s a very good thing. Instead at dusk they vacuum them up in their torpid state and move them to a hive in another town kind of like a witness protection program for bees.

Dear Cousin Linda

A Poem by Michael Estabrook

Thanks a million for sending the gravel pictures my Dad made
back in 1963. We have accounted for all of them except
for The Last Supper that used to hang in Grammy’s dining room.

Are you going to answer that?

His disease prevented him from working but he couldn’t stand
not being useful in some way so he turned to making
these gravel pictures. Therapy for him too I suppose.

Of course I can’t eat that I’m on a diet

Such a coincidence, a couple days ago I began a letter to you
then yours shows up in the mail bulging with photos
thanks for sending them.

I can’t get these damn glasses clean
can’t see anything

I tried to let Aunt Dottie know I was thinking about her
a couple times a year anyway
by sending a card and some photos.

Don’t yell at me till I drop the damn ball

Bill sent me some photos of her when she first got married
back in 1942. I’ve only known her as a mature woman,
never realized she was so pretty!

Two wrongs don’t make a right

Did you know that she had a daughter?
I don’t recall the circumstances of this child, she must’ve stayed
with her father or Dorothy gave her up for adoption?

No I can’t read anything he’s written
it’s all very thin gruel

Enclosing a photo of her with my grandfather Fred
taken back in 1946 at his gas station.
She must’ve been 2 or so in that picture.

Ring twice when you get there

Since I was retired a year ago can’t figure out how I ever
had the time to work! I have been busier than ever
with our 2 grandchildren who live right across the street.

So if David decided to jump off a cliff you would too?
If Billy jumped in a lake so would you?

I take my 7-year old grandson Connor to gymnastics every week
which gives me a special pleasure
seeing as I was a gymnast back in high school.

Eat your dinner the children in China are starving

On top of all this I’ve been studying for our upcoming trip
to Italy. Did I tell you about that? To celebrate
Patti and me being together for 50 years I’m taking her to Italy.

Whatever your little heart desires

Both of us have always wanted to visit Italy
with all the art and history, especially Florence, the city
of Boccaccio, Machiavelli, Brunelleschi, Michelangelo, Da Vinci

If I’ve told you once I’ve told you 1000 times

and of course, Dante (learned Italian just to read the Divine Comedy
in the original and almost did my PhD on Dante).
I intend on knowing more than the tour guides!

History is written by the victors.

Well ok, guess that’s it for now. I hope you are making the most
of any extra time you might have since Dorothy
has left us. But I know you miss her too.

A Letter Poem by Michael Estabrook

Dear Lennie

Because of the awful winter we had here in New England we’ve been enduring a spate of workers in and around the house (jackals, hyenas, vultures, a lion or 2 feasting upon a fallen wildebeest)
Had a new roof put on
And then today having a new ceiling put in the kitchen
And a new floor in the family room
And the walls in the garage torn down and rebuilt
All thanks to the water damage from the monster ice dams it has been such fun
Time to move to a condo I think
I’ll do the painting, save a few bucks that way anyway
Unless of course I fall the hell off the ladder!
It’s all a test you know, God checking to see if we can or cannot stand the rigors of Hell!
Anyway, thought it might be time to check in send along a few of poems for your consideration.
thanks as always for your time and consideration,
and I hope all is well

Michael Estabrook


A Poem by Michael Estabrook

My mother called today
wants to pay for her funeral
in advance so you boys don’t have
to worry about it.
But I’m not sure how
one does that, who do you pay
after all she may live
another 15 years so I say
just write me a check you can trust me
$20,000 ought to cover it.
Been a long time
since I’ve heard her laugh so hard.