Piece #1
After graduating from
Austin High in Chicago, my mom,
Offered a modeling job,
Had also been accepted
To both the Universities of
Chicago and Wisconsin.
With three options facing her,
The roll of the dice found her heading
For Madison; the first piece
Of my puzzle was steel-cut
Positioned on a tabletop, alone
But not for so very long.
Piece #2
After graduating from
Waimea High on Kaua‘i, Dad
Spent a year digging ditches
In Honolulu before
Following his oldest brother to
UW – Madison.
At the end of freshman year,
He was drafted into the Army
For service in World War II.
Surviving fighting four years
In the European Theater,
Jumping out of airplanes with
The 82nd Airborne,
He limped back to Madison
To resume college studies
Piece #1, joined now by
Piece #2, no longer lonely,
Sensed some special vibration.
Piece #3
Now my dad, six years older
Than most sophomore students, was what we’d
Label non-traditional.
This is the puzzle’s third piece.
Sliding onto the tabletop in
Proximity to the others.
More than a vibration now,
The three begin to hum as though they’ve
Been electrified, somehow
Magnetized, draw together,
A tightening core, centripetal,
A gravitational force.
Piece #4
The most popular hangout
On campus, a cafeteria
And bar called Der Rathskeller,
Attracts students of all kinds
To socialize there, including Mom’s
Sorority, and Dad’s gang.
The GI’s gravitate there,
Find mutual support in having
Survived their sentence in hell.
Mom’s is an academic sorority.
They go to socialize, sure, before
They march to the library.
This fourth piece causes a rise
In temperature. All four dance like
Water coming to a boil.
Piece #5
Yes, I’ve told this many times,
But never in the form of a poem.
It’s poetic, so here goes.
One evening Dad and his parched
Comrades convened in Der Rathskeller
To down their daily quota.
Mom and her sisters, on this
Fateful evening, were in for dinner
Before they hit the old books.
Dad, seeing my mom sitting
Across the room, excused himself, up
And made a beeline for her.
Stopping before her, my dad
Bolstered either by the alcohol,
Or often facing down death
Said, ‘Stand up, and if you’re not
Taller than I am, I’ll take you to
A movie,’ upon which Mom –
She once told me she’d never
Seen a handsomer man in her life –
Stood up, and though she was
A wee bit taller, though not
Obviously so, to a movie
They did go, and so it goes.
Pieces #1 – #5
The picture came together,
Those disparate pieces all placed,
Completing the puzzle: me
Lanning Lee 