The Dangers Inherent in Reading the Classics

I was immersed in the story
of the great white whale
as I sat soaking in my tub,
my body recreating the waves that Melville wrote down.
Ahab was disappearing and
reappearing, strapped by ropes to the furious whale.
I was watching him beckon mysteriously
and the phone rang unmistakably.
When I answered you asked if
I was busy. Busy. How to explain:
the social mentality of New Bedford.
The trail of water from the bathroom to your voice.
Then, how I lost my place
when I lost my footing –
Ahab and the whale and
the remains of the Pequod sailing
through the air toward the floor.

The commotion confused you.
You asked if you woke me.
I said I’d be at your place by 8;
that I’d bring some lighter reading.
If I happen to be late, please don’t call.

By the time I knock on your door,
I will have forgotten all this.
And please, when I walk in, don’t
call me Ishmael.


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