on the day
your wandering eyes
fall silent
for want of a stimulus
so incapable of boring you
i will learn
for the very first time
the color of your eyes
blue
and if you can be trusted
enough for me to bother
with even talking to you.
until that day
should it ever come
i will stand silent
waiting for you to stop talking
with your eyes
telling me
in every possible way
like a preacher man
condemning his congregation
to hell
you are so in this
for you
alone
1 comment:
Dear Paul,
You don't know me. I was an exchange student at North in 1990-91. I'm Italian and was a soccer player and a student for your dad.
I read today, in november 2007, about your father's death. It's late, too late, for condolences.
But I do want to say a few words, I hope you don't mind.
I came to grosse pointe at 17, first time outside my house first time without my parents. I had lived 4 years in Brussels growing up,hence I had an immediate bond with him. I knew French well, there was another bond. Loved literature, was extremely eager in learning about French poetry and literature. Loved football (I'm calling it with its proper name...) or calcio as we say in Italy and as your dad would say. He knew Italian in a decent way, he was always yelling at me in Italian which I found annoying and reassuring at the same time. He knew that.
One game where I stunk more than usual he started yelling from the sidelines in Italian and I remember the other team's coach complaining to the ref "We're in America here, he needs to speak English." We both at the same time said "Ma vaffanculo" to him, 5 minutes after I laid a perfect pass to our French centerforward who scored...
I'm 34 now, father of 2, living in London. I last saw your dad in 2001 came to GP to see some friends and ironically enough he was the first person I wanted to see and hear from. I remember in 1993 my first year of Uni when a friend from GP called me to let me know that your dad was diagnosed with cancer. I remember crying all night and in June of that year I took a plane and spent my summer in the US just to be able to drive to GP to see him and see how he was doing. He had recovered, won the battle. He told me he was going to retire from coaching, but that he was going to every game to see his kids play. A friend told me the then coach of north was very nervous when Guido was in the stands as he know who the real coach was.
On awards night at the end of the soccer season when he mentioned my name he said "we couldn't afford him with our style of play, that's why I couldn't start him as much as I wanted to. But Manuel could make plays that no one else in the team could, and he wanted to beat South so badly. He might never forgive me for not playing him against De La Salle in the last game of the season, but I want him to know that he was our most talented player." He was right, I still haven't forgiven him. We lost that game 1-0 almost towards the end of the game. it was to go to the State champions.
One thing I'll always remember and will teach my children is that "il faut cultiver notre jardin". Guido taught me that through Candide. I'm sure you know it too.
Sorry if I rambled on too much, but he was the first meaningful person in my life after my father. I was teary eyed and sobbing at awards night when I said that. Was taunted by my team mates, but they had no idea what he meant, what he still means to me today.
Wish you and Franck (who was a sophmore on the team I think) all the happiness possible.
Manuel Rosini
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