All of Us by Raymond Carver Page B

fall in love
    with somebody who loves somebody else. But to
juggle
    for God’s sake! To give your life to that.
    To go with that. Juggling.
My Daughter and Apple Pie
    She serves me a piece of it a few minutes
    out of the oven. A little steam rises
    from the slits on top. Sugar and spice —
    cinnamon—burned into the crust.
    But she’s wearing these dark glasses
    in the kitchen at ten o’clock
    in the morning—everything nice —
    as she watches me break off
    a piece, bring it to my mouth,
    and blow on it. My daughter’s kitchen,
    in winter. I fork the pie in
    and tell myself to stay out of it.
    She says she loves him. No way
    could it be worse.
Commerce
    A swank dinner. Food truly wonderful
    and plenty of it. It was the way I always dreamed
    it would be. And it just kept coming
    while we talked about the bottom line.
    Even when we weren’t talking about it,
    it was there—in the oysters, the lamb,
    the sauces, the fine white linen, the cutlery
    and goblets. It said, Here is your life, enjoy.
    This is the poem I wanted to live to write! Then
    to come upon the spirit in a flaming dessert —
    the streaks of fire shooting up, only to drop
    back, as if exhausted.
    Driving home afterwards, my head aswim
    from overeating. What a swine! I deserve
    everything that fellow’s going to say about me.
    Falling asleep in my pants on top of the covers.
    But not before thinking about wolves,
    a sultry day in the woods.
    My life staked down in the clearing.
    When I try to turn my head to reveal
    the fleshy neck, I can’t move.
    I don’t have the energy. Let them go
    for the belly, those brother wolves
    with the burning eyes.
    To have come this far in a single night!
    But then I never knew when to stop.
The Fishing Pole of the Drowned Man
    I didn’t want to use it at first.
    Then I thought, no, it would
    give up secrets and bring me luck —
    that’s what I needed then.
    Besides, he’d left it behind for me
    to use when he went swimming that time.
    Shortly afterwards, I met two women.
    One of them loved opera and the other
    was a drunk who’d done time
    in jail. I took up with one
    and began to drink and fight a lot.
    The way this woman could sing and carry on!
    We went straight to the bottom.
A Walk
    I took a walk on the railroad track.
    Followed that for a while
    and got off at the country graveyard
    where a man sleeps between
    two wives. Emily van der Zee,
    Loving Wife and Mother,
    is at John van der Zee’s right.
    Mary, the second Mrs van der Zee,
    also a Loving Wife, to his left.
    First Emily went, then Mary.
    After a few years, the old fellow himself.
    Eleven children came from these unions.
    And they, too, would all have to be dead now.
    This is a quiet place. As good a place as any
    to break my walk, sit, and provide against
    my own death, which comes on.
    But I don’t understand, and I don’t understand.
    All I know about this fine, sweaty life,
    my own or anyone else’s,
    is that in a little while I’ll rise up
    and leave this astonishing place
    that gives shelter to dead people. This graveyard.
    And go. Walking first on one rail
    and then the other.
My Dad’s Wallet
    Long before he thought of his own death,
    my dad said he wanted to lie close
    to his parents. He missed them so
    after they went away.
    He said this enough that my mother remembered,
    and I remembered. But when the breath
    left his lungs and all signs of life
    had faded, he found himself in a town
    512 miles away from where he wanted most to be.
    My dad, though. He was restless
    even in death. Even in death
    he had this one last trip to take.
    All his life he liked to wander,
    and now he had one more place to get to.
    The undertaker said he’d arrange it,
    not to worry. Some poor light
    from the window fell on the dusty floor
    where we waited that afternoon
    until the man came out of the back room
    and peeled off his rubber gloves.
    He carried the smell of formaldehyde with him.
    He was a big man
, this undertaker said.
    Then began to tell us