Prose Poem
Mia’s Political Stand
Leon traced Mia’s footsteps
through a thick forest
mused with stacks
of pithy pickup lines.
It’s happened to Leon
even if it hasn’t happened to Mia.
“Vote for her, or get lost,” Mia said.
“What?” Leon asked.
Mia packed a dark bag and went
to stay with her sister for a couple of weeks.
Vote for who? Leon thought at night.
Leon hesitated as he hovered
his finger over the small,
red button on his phone
and call Mia then, or wait until
his better angels tossed
a lost cause embedded
into a bin of lessons learned
after Leon burned himself
in therapy, taking advice
from a shrink left him
hugging a large maroon
pillow at night.
But the moon had plans of its own.
Leon tossed and turned the nights
until rays linger between navy curtains
and the timed coffee maker percolated
Help it or not, seek or die,
Leon left another message.
Mia answered, her voice painted
her eyes half-shut.
Leon used to plant bottle rockets
on her lips.
Friction began before November.
Let’s call it the 13th of September.
“Vote for her, not him,” Mia said.
Leon’s hesitation moved her plans
like musical chairs on a sinking ship.
Leon scored a date with Mia
at a diner before she realized
that she agreed.
Mia wouldn’t turn her back on a decision.
6 PM sharp, they’d be there to chat.
Mia ended the call.
Leon pumped his fist and laughed in relief.
He rubbed his face and moved the dark comforter
off his body. He lifted his hands above his head, arched his back, and released a sharp breath.
Leon pushed himself upright and slipped his feet into a pair of slippers.
He moved across the cream carpet and followed the beige hall with framed silhouette art on the walls.
Leon entered the kitchen and turned on the light.
He stood on the cold maple floor, turned his head, and looked around for his black mug. Leon opened the dishwasher, grabbed the mug, and closed it. He grabbed the pot and poured the dark brew into his mug. Leon returned the pot to its maker. He opened the fridge, swooped, shifted eggs, bacon, and water bottles, and grabbed a carton of half and half. Leon poured a splash into his coffee and returned it to the fridge. Leon lifted the coffee to his lips and blew steam. He drank some, set the cup down, and moved to the island. Leon cut a piece of lemon pound cake. He took a bite and licked his fingers. The sweet lime reminded him of Mia’s perfume, which he pretended to adore. But now, Leon would give anything to argue over it again.
Leon shifted the vase with a withered red rose.
Leon sprayed the oak dining table with Pledge
and then he ran a white rag across it,
and the fire mantel.
Leon realized how little he chipped in around the house.
Leon’s rag turned brown,
He grabbed a device from the glass coffee table, lifted his arm, hit a button, and the radio turned on, playing Ella Langley’s lyrics through the speakers. The bass, treble, and Tennessee voice eased into his heart.
Leon tossed the dirty towel into a trash can. He used a clean rag to clean windows until he could see the streakless version of himself on the TV.
Leon stroked his chin. Not half bad, he thought.
He vacuumed and mopped the floors and black trim.
Leon hung framed pictures of childhood friends and family memories.
Leon moved from Pasco to Seattle just to be with her.
It worked until it didn’t work.
Mia said, “Vote for the lady, or lose me.”
Leon didn’t know what she meant until she watched the pair debate.
But then, Mia hadn’t much to say.
Mia didn’t know that he didn’t know the woman’s name.
Mia hadn’t been political until recently. Someone put something in her head — something engaging.
Leon swept the dust off the balcony. Thick evergreen trees stuck in stacks beyond the neatly trimmed spacious backyard with edged hedges stretched to a fence.
Mia planted two hickory trees that rose to shed crisp gold and red leaves.
A knock on the door broke the silence.
Leon twisted around. He entered the house and shut the sliding glass door. Leon opened a closet and put the broom away. He shut it and clapped his hands. The knocking continued.
“Yes?” Leon said.
“It’s me, you dummy,” Mia said.
“I don’t look the — ”
“Neither do I,” she said. “I worked out and helped my sister clean her house.”
“What do you want?” Leon said.
“Are you going to open the door?”
Leon ran his fingers through his thick, dark hair.
He held his breath and blew out a sharp sigh.
He twisted the knob and opened the door. Leon scanned her long, red hair and deep green eyes, spoiling her surprise that she’d had enough of being apart.
“Want a bath?” Leon said, motioning her inside.
Mia hugged herself and moved into the house. “Wow.” She looked around.
“I cleaned a bit,” Leon said.
Mia arched a brow. “A bit?”
“I’m not great at this stuff.”
“I’m not going being without you,” Mia said. “And yes…” She gestured. “I’d love a bath.”
Leon had her wait for a surprise.
He returned soon after.
Leon placed roses in the bath.
He lit evergreen candles,
flickering with romanticism.
He called her up, and she slipped off her clothes
and stepped into the tub with her athletic pale frame.
He massaged her shoulders
as she soaked in white vanilla foam.
Mia sighed as if to sink into his handle.
“I’m not the sharpest knife
in a drawer,” Leon said.
“Why didn’t you tell me what you meant about voting for the woman?”
“Your father would — ”
“I’m not my father.”
“ — never let you vote for her.”
“I’m nothing like my father.”
“I know,” she said.
“How?”
“Because you’re voting for her.”
Leon snorted, and Mia laughed,
pulling him into the large tub clothed.
(© 2024 AC)
(Amazon Kindle, Spillwords, The Writers Club)
Other posts at iPoetry
