(Video below: India.Arie with "Little Things"

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For jazz lovers, NPR provides a delightful array of possible playlist streams, including of performances at New York's stupendous Winter Jazz Fest

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"Poetry"

a short story

by Jeannette Harris

They had gone to parties together and she had introduced him to her parents. They were very unfriendly to him and he had felt uncomfortable in their house. Mr. and Mrs. Dandrich had a strict lifestyle and were strident in their rules for their only daughter. She was to marry a doctor or a lawyer. She was not to get herself mixed up with anyone else. She was to be home by midnight. She was not to go out unaccompanied, by herself. He had been fortunate to meet her at all.

They had sat next to each other in English 406 and began conversing somewhat accidentally during a group discussion of class and racism. Her views were very liberal considering what her background had been. He had felt drawn to her frail body and soft voice. She rarely raised it, despite classmates who disagreed vociferously with her. Something about her had seemed fragile and he had risen to her defense. Somewhat later, he had met her at the student lounge and at the cafe. They had talked and agreed that they would see one particular foreign movie together that held their curiosity: Truffaut's “The Four Hundred Blows." After that, they had met at get-togethers, somewhat unintentionally.

Finally, she had explained that, although once she had gone to bed with him, she could no longer have anything to do with him. Trevor was crushed. He started yet another poem and, disliking even the first line, threw it too against the wall in frustration.

"Hello, Mrs. Dandrich.... It's Trevor.... Is Miriam there?" Just her name sent tremors through his body. It came from a place so ancient and touched a place so deep inside of him. "No?... Well, please tell her I called again." He despaired of reaching her. Miriam had dropped out of the English course they shared. He failed to see her in the cafe or lounge. Had she dropped out of school? A friend said her parents had transferred her to a private one. Trevor hung his head. He'd do some sleuthing around, he decided, and find out where she went.

"Miriam Dandrich?" Gregory said. "You ain't touchin' that broad, kid. Her parents have a bead on you now. I heard it all downtown yesterday." Greg's long hair bounced around his head. He spoke quickly and nervously.

Tee was clean-cut: short light brown hair, khaki pants, ironed button-up shirt, brown socks and loafers. His brown skin was clear and deeply tanned. "What happened?" he asked.

"Her parents had a fit."

"What's their problem? I'm not an auto mechanic or anything. I'm studying to be a statistician, a scientist." Trevor felt a sense of dread. Mr. Dandrich owned one of the local banks. He was a member, of course, of the Chamber of Commerce. He served as a trustee for a few companies. He held honorary positions in several colleges. Mrs. Dandrich had founded the town garden club and served on the board of the library.

"Not what they want for their treasured kid."

"Well, what does she want for herself then?" Trevor asked with disgust.

"No one knows. She doesn't speak much for herself, remember?"

"How can I get in touch with her without her parents knowing about it?"

"She hangs out at Ditto's Restaurant downtown after classes now. You can find her there sometimes between 3:00 and 3:30."

"Did she ever ask about me?"

"Yeah," Greg said after a pause. "She said to tell you that."

"Thank God," Tee said. "She's not a witch after all."

"What have you been doing besides studying and worrying about Miriam?" Gregory asked.

"Trying to write poetry."

"You're kidding."

"No, I got it in my mind that, if I wrote the perfect poem, I could win her back. People have done that, historically."

"Why not just try to find one in a book, then, that's already written."

"No, I want something personal. Something about those eyes."

"Yeah, I know about those eyes."

"I want them to be just for me," Tee warned.

"Good luck, kid. I don't think her parents will let it go that far, no matter how you try."

"We'll see," Trevor said. "We'll see."

Trevor haunted Ditto's for the next week, but he never saw Mimi. Someone must have warned her parents, that he knew where she might be. Instead, he sat at a table by the window, watching all the passersby and still trying to write the perfect poem for the perfect woman of his dreams. Not one suited her as it should though, he felt. In the end, they all went the way of those he had earlier thrown away. Gregory stopped by occasionally.

"Still ain't seen her yet, pal?" he said, seating himself on the other side of the table and ordering coffee for himself.

Trevor stirred sugar into his herbal tea. "Nope."

"How's the perfect poem coming along?"

"Not well, friend, not well." He took a sip, gingerly.

"I found some for you in a book. You could use them instead." Greg pulled a few pieces of paper out of a book he'd been carrying and handed them to Tee, who pushed them aside.

"I don't want poems written by someone else for someone else. I want a poem written by me for Mimi."

Greg lost patience with him. "Maybe it isn't in you, buddy. Maybe you just aren't a poet."

"It'll come one day, just naturally."

The waitress put a tepid cup of coffee in front of Gregory. He added creamer and took a careful gulp. "How do you know?"

"Once before I tried for a long time to write one and couldn't get it right. Finally I gave up and then late one night, it came rushing out. I didn't even edit it." Trevor remembered that evening and the poem well. He could still recite it, if someone asked, although he'd lost the original a long time ago.

"Well, do that then. Hey, gal, got any sandwiches here? How about a menu?"

He turned and addressed Tee again. "Isn't it about time to give up?"

Trevor bit his lip. "They don't have menus here. You have to read the board. Maybe it is, Greg. Maybe it's time to give up for a while."

"How about a movie, pal?" Gregory suggested. "Get this all off your mind."

"No, I wouldn't enjoy it. I'll just stay here and wait to see if Mimi comes by today."

The waitress came by and took an order for a Reuben sandwich from Greg.

"She won't."

"You know that for a fact?" Tee asked.

Gregory gulped some more coffee and lit a cigarette. "I think she's grounded for the season."

"Can you find out? I could run into her as she leaves her classes maybe?"

"I think her parents, or a chauffeur, pick her up."

"Find out, buddy."

"Okay," Greg agreed. "I'll see what I can dig up for you."

"How do you do this, by the way?"

"Aw, my girlfriend goes to that college now that Mimi attends."

"Great." Tee felt hope rise within him.

The waitress returned with Greg's sandwich and he put his cigarette out. "Want half?" Trevor shook his head. "Please? I can't eat all this."

Tee reached for half and ate it in five bites. He wasn't really hungry. He had more important things in his belly and his head. His body ached for Mimi. He almost wished she'd never given in. He could feel her now, her generous breasts, her stomach against his, her hips grinding as a low moan escaped from her perfectly formed lips. The only food he wanted, he knew, was the ambrosia of Miriam. "The ambrosia of Miriam," he repeated to himself. "That's a line in a poem, isn't it?" he asked Greg. "The ambrosia of Miriam," he repeated aloud.

"It might be a title."

"Good idea. Maybe if I have a good title, I can go from there."

"Good luck, buddy," Gregory said, wiping his lips with a napkin from the holder on the table. "I'm outta here."

"Catch you later then," Tee said. He wrote on a napkin, "The Ambrosia of Miriam" and waited for more words to come his way. Maybe tonight, he thought, he'd wake up in the middle of the night with the perfect lines all formed and flowing in his head.

A few days later, Greg accosted him as he walked from the parking lot to the Sociology Building. "I've got a place for you to see Miriam, friend."

"You're kidding. Where?" Tee asked eagerly.

Gregory pulled his loose jeans up around his waist again. "She gets out of class on Wednesday at Scofield College's Women's Studies Building at 3 p.m. You can find her out back before she rounds the corner to meet her ride."

"Is she expecting me?"

He examined his friend. Trevor looked tired and there were circles under his eyes. He hadn't shaved in a few days. His clothes seemed rumpled and his shoes scuffed. It wasn't like Trevor not to present a perfect image of suburban respectability. "Yes."

"You won't believe this, friend." Tee pulled a piece of lined paper out of his striped shirt pocket. His hand shook perceptibly.

"You've got a poem for her," Greg guessed.

Trevor knelt down and smoothed the paper on the sidewalk. His eyes were blurry from missing so much sleep. The letters wavered before him. He felt like curling up for a nap there and then. "Yes."

"Is it still called 'The Ambrosia of Miriam'?" Gregory put a hand underneath his friend's elbow and pulled him back up.

Tee held the lines of poetry out before him and frowned. "No. It's called 'For Miriam, Ambrosia'."

"Did it come to you in the middle of the night?" Greg read it quickly and approved. He felt a tug in his heart as he identified with the love and longing expressed.

"Yup. Just last night. Do you like it?"

"It's great. Good luck. Are you going to give it to her this Wednesday?"

"You bet." Tee folded it up and placed it carefully back in his pocket, although he had it memorized in any case. "I need something to bring her over to my side again for good."

"Think it'll work?" Greg asked with concern.

"All I can do is hope," Tee said. More words started whirling in his tired head.

"Well, I gotta go. Don't forget. 3 p.m. Wednesday. Women's Studies. Out back," Gregory said, turning and heading toward the James T. Pickens History Building. "Oh, it's called the Wilma J. Rickets Building," he called over his shoulder.

"Okay, thanks," Tee said, grateful again for his friend's help over the past few weeks.

A few days later, Trevor stood in the rain under an umbrella. He was dressed in a light brown suit that accentuated his smooth dark brown skin. His shoes were carefully shined and his face cleanly shaven. He wore a soft leather rain hat and carried a small envelope in his right hand. When Miriam appeared, dressed as casually as ever in jeans and a sweat shirt, wearing sneakers and with an olive raincoat held over her arm, his breath nearly deserted him. She was gorgeous in his eyes, which caught his nearly instantly. She smiled, as she ran toward him and huddled under the umbrella against his muscular body.

"How are you, Trevor. I've missed you," she said gaily.

"I've missed you, too, Mimi," he responded soulfully. He looked into her eyes again and found them wide and innocent as ever, with that hint of something strange to him.

"How have you been?"

"Fine. No, I've been sick from missing you," he amended.

"I can't stay here long at all," she warned in a low whisper. "They don't want me to see you, you know." Her pale brown skin turned pink in a blush at the distress her family had caused to her and to him.

"I have something for you," he said in a low tone and handed her the note-sized envelope.

"Shall I open it now?" she asked considerately. She was terrifically curious at what he had brought.

"No, I'll tell you," he said thoughtfully. "It's a notecard with a lovely flower on the cover, just like you, and a poem I finally wrote for you. I want you to keep them someplace safe."

Miriam pursed her lips and placed the envelope carefully in her purse. "I'll look forward to reading it," she said.

"Don't forget I love you," he said, kissing her hurriedly on the lips.

"Ah. Don't forget I love you too," she said, stepping out from under the umbrella and, with a quick turn, racing off around the corner of the building to her ride in front.

"Oh," Trevor thought to himself again and shaking his head, "I hope this works." He couldn't stand the thought of losing Miriam forever.

"So, bro'," Greg asked later when they met again accidentally at Ditto's, "did she like the poem?"

"I haven't heard yet," Trevor said, pursing his lips.

"When will you see her again?"

"This Wednesday hopefully."

"Same time, same place?" Greg asked.

"Right," Tee said, licking his lower lip nervously.

"I heard something," Gregory said, leaning toward Trevor conspiratorily.

"What is it?"

"She's been fighting with her parents."

"Over school or over me?"

"Both, I think."

"That's according to your girlfriend?" Trevor asked, feeling more nervous than ever.

"Yes. It's a showdown of some kind, Dinah said."

"Do you know what happened?"

"What I heard was, she said she would quit, move out, and get a job if they didn't let her go back to the university and date you, at least occasionally."

"Wow," Tee said, leaning back with his hands on his hips and his eyes opening wide. "She really did that?"

"A powerful poem, I'd say, friend."

"Did you ever hear that old saying about poets being dangerous?" Tee asked, leaning toward Gregory again.

"No."

"There is one somewhere."

"Well, a few poems don't make you a poet. I don't think you're dangerous," Greg said.

"I didn't mean to be. I just wanted Mimi to be only for me. I didn't really care what school she went to, as long as she was mine."

"And for everyone to see," Greg reminded him, somewhat remorselessly.

"There's something about her...," Tee reiterated. He'd tried to say what it was in the poem but had failed repeatedly. In the end, whatever it was was between the lines not in them, he had finally decided. It was there though. He felt it and others had too.

That Wednesday, he found Mimi again behind the Women's Studies Building. She was waiting on the steps and ran toward him and into his arms.

"Oh, that was so beautiful," she nearly sobbed. "Thank you so much." She was dressed uncharacteristically in a pleated skirt and sweater with low-heeled pumps. Apparently, the poem and the week had brought out the woman in her, Tee thought approvingly.

Trevor pushed her away a bit to look into her eyes. "I heard you've been having some troubles at home," he said with concern.

"I can't stand it anymore. I have a right to see whom I choose and study where I want." She sniffed and snuggled next to him again.

Trevor hugged her tightly to him. "You do, but...."

She put her head down and buried it in his chest before looking up again. "....they pay for it. I know. They told me. Over and over again."

"Can you afford to go it on your own?" he asked, kissing her on the forehead and smoothing back her long kinky hair.

"I have an idea," she said determinedly. He kissed her on the lips and felt their moistness against his with joy. Her tongue darted into his mouth and he answered it with passion. "And it is?" he murmured against her ear.

"I'll move in with you and get a job," she whispered, not sure of how Trevor would take that, as a promising development or a curse.

He hugged her closer still. "And where would you get a job?" he asked, almost condescendingly.

"Maybe at the university. I have friends there in the Administration Building." Miriam was sure she would have no trouble finding employment if she wanted it. Her family had good connections throughout the community and her parents would not allow her to go without funds of any kind.

Trevor took that in, what she said and what she didn't. "Would you like to go to Ditto's with me?" he asked suddenly.

"I'd love to go anywhere with you," Miriam answered without hesitation.

"You've seen my apartment," he said, as they walked around Scofield's buildings and toward town.

"Yes. I know, it's small."

"You're used to fine things," he warned her gently. "I haven't the money your parents have. And neither do my parents, of course."

"I don't care," Mimi said defiantly. "I want a life of my own."

"With me," Tee added, trying to hide his enormous glee. She wanted to live with him. She wanted to study with him. She wanted to share all the small moments of eternity with him.

"Yes." Miriam put her arm around his waist as they walked, and he put his around hers. Locked as they were in embrace, they didn't notice her parents driving up behind and to the left of them on the street. A horn honked and broke their reverie.

"Young man," Mr. Dandrich called. "Get in here, please. I need to talk with you."

Trevor bit his lip and dragged his feet noticeably. He reached the car window and knelt down to speak. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Dandrich. How are you today?"

"You know very well how I am today, young man," Owen Dandrich nearly thundered from behind the wheel. "I want you to leave my daughter alone."

Trevor felt a tremor go through to his bones. "That doesn't appear, Mr. Dandrich, to be what Miriam wants."

Mrs. Dandrich spoke up. "Miriam is too young to know what she wants."

Tee determined to hold his, their ground. "She's of age, Mrs. Dandrich. She's old enough to decide who her company is, where she resides, and what university or college she attends."

"I'll see she never gets a job, or a penny from me," Owen Dandrich warned ominously.

"You wouldn't be that mean," Trevor said. He was sure the father would relent eventually. He wouldn't allow his only daughter to starve, or go without whatever she might really need.

"I would," Owen reiterated. "I won't countenance it. Not on my watch," he repeated determinedly.

"I'll take care of her then," Tee declared. He wondered exactly how and if Mimi would be able to put up with poverty.

"Not for long," Mrs. Dandrich said. "And don't write any more of those poems." Her husband put his foot on the accelerator and sped off.

"Well," Miriam laughed. "You've met Daddy and Mommy."

"Twice," he said gloomily.

"We'll be all right. They're all thunder and no lightning," Mimi explained. "They'll back off after I'm settled in with you. And they won't really do anything to keep me from working if I want to."

"Here we are," Tee said, opening the door and holding it for Miriam. She walked through and found a table in a back corner for them. Ditto's had a lounge area with a comfortable couch and upholstered chairs and a coffee table. Around that it held small dining tables and wicker chairs.

"Are you sure about your Dad and Mom?" Trevor asked, as he settled in. He ordered coffee for both of them.

"Yes, I'm sure," Mimi assured him.

"You showed them the poem?" Tee inquired querulously. The poem mentioned breasts, among other things.

"No. They just know about it. I told them that you'd written me a perfect love poem and that there was no doubt in my mind about how you felt about me. You couldn't have written that unless it came from your heart."

Trevor held her hand under the table and then rubbed her knee. "That's right," he said. "I worked on it over and over until finally it came out as right as I could make it."

Mimi smiled. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"You meant to woo me back with it and it worked."

"That's right."

"Thank you," she said. "I'll treasure it as long as I live."

Trevor recited the poem from memory at her request.

For Miriam, Ambrosia

Your breast against mine,
your belly soft and round,
your legs outstretched,
strained and arced to send
that electric current
through to me, to bind me
to you completely.
That was eternity.
That was the moment
that you and I became "we."
Remember when we took
that roller coaster ride,
how you screamed and 
held on tight to my arms
around your frail body?
That's how we'll be in life.
Nothing will harm you
while I am around; you'll be
swathed in love and
the strongest of care.
Everything everywhere
that's beautiful and good
will be yours from that
safe place I make for you
to be alone with me,
our two soul bodies 
an infinite and immortal one.

"It sounds even better coming from your lips," she murmured in his ear.

He looked into her eyes again. "You are so beautiful," he declared.

She smiled. "Black is beautiful," she said.

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(Video below: Leonard Cohen with his song Everybody Knows

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Graphics above: Alien, oil pastel by jH, and photograph of !Lilliput Jobo!

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