Joel SOLONCHE








WHEN I HEARD ON THE RADIO


When I heard on the radio
that the student who was asked
by the college interviewer, “If
you could be an inanimate
object, what would you choose?”
had answered, “A revolver,”
I first thought of Emily Dickinson’s
My life had stood a loaded gun,
and then I thought how I would
have answered. “A telescope,”
I said out loud, to no one, for I was
alone in the car driving home.
“A telescope is both phallic and
an instrument for advancing man’s
knowledge,” I said, once again out
loud, offering the reasons for my choice.
At home, I asked my wife, “If you
could be an inanimate object, what
would you choose?” “A basket,”
she answered, which surprised me
because my wife is an accomplished
classical pianist, and I was sure she
would answer, “A piano.” At night,
in bed, in the dark, we lay next to one
another, my telescopic hand in the
basket of her palm and fingers,
the only sound the clicking of an
insect’s wings against the window
screen, like an empty revolver.
 
 






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