Elmer Wigby (poem) by Mark Sebring on AuthorsDen

Elmer Wigby
by Mark Sebring → (All Poetry by Mark Sebring)
Tuesday, October 9, 2018 Rated "PG" by the Author.

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Elmer Wigby What can we say about Elmer's mother? Probably nothing that hasn't been said before. She was the sort of woman who looked great from a distance, felt good in the dark, and could drive a man to distraction. She always carried a spare pair of panties in her purse - just in case. And what about Elmer's father? Well, he didn't stick around for very long. In fact he didn't even stay for breakfast. Elmer was 14 years old and had gotten an A on his science project. He had built a radio set all by himself from a kit he had ordered through the mail. (He wanted to communicate with someone.) His mother was very proud of him. He always got A's in school. But none of the other kids liked him. They teased him and bullied him and called him "geek" and "dork" and other names to make themselves feel superior. And Elmer, he just wanted someone to notice that he was special, to recognize that he was worth something. His mother understood that he was special but she had needs of her own. She was getting ready to go out that night and Elmer knew that he would be alone again. While she was trying on tops and perfecting her face he sat quietly, staring into his aquarium. (His fish didn't seem to need anyone to be happy.) His mother was hoping to meet a man at the bar, a particular man this time. She had bumped into him at the grocery store that afternoon, literally and perhaps deliberately. He smiled at her and they exchanged pleasantries (he was the father of one of Elmer's classmates) and he gave her the impression that he might be able to get away that night. So, with high hopes and wearing her sexiest top, she said goodbye to her son. She told him to behave himself though she had no intention of doing so herself. The bar was unusually crowded for a Wednesday night, but she was able to find a table where she could see anyone who came through the door. She waited for hours, trying not to drink too much, but her friend never did show up. "After all," she consoled herself, "he didn't actually say that he was definitely going to come." Still she was disappointed, and she wondered to herself why she would wait so long for a man like that to show up. She guessed that she was just trying to satisfy some need but she wasn't quite sure what it was or how to go about satisfying it. It was getting close to closing time and she realized that she had had a bit too much to drink. But she figured she could probably make it home all right. She had done it many times before. At home Elmer was sitting comfortably in the easy chair, staring at the television, watching old movies on a cable station. Elmer loved old movies. They were his only true friends. He was watching "Rebel Without A Cause" that night. He wished he could have had a friend like James Dean, someone who would lend him their jacket, someone who'd be there when the world ended. 🌄 Not long after his mother left the bar she spotted a young sailor standing next to the road. To her bleary eyes he looked like a nice enough young man and she invited him into her car. She didn't notice the look in his eyes, the expression that matched the tattoo on his shoulder, a skull and crossbones with the word "Mom" underneath. They found a dark and quiet place to park and it all started out friendly enough. But somewhere along the way things went bad and Elmer's mother didn't enjoy it much. He did terrible things to her that night, things too horrible to relate here, things that would have made you cry. And she never made it home that night. She never made it home ever again. Home, where Elmer was sitting quietly in the easy chair watching his very last old movie, motionless, unattentive. He had taken a knife from the kitchen and opened up the veins in his wrists. He had gotten blood all over the carpet and all over the easy chair. (His mother wouldn't have liked that.) "West Side Story" was playing on the television. Natalie Wood was singing, "There's a place for us. A time and place for us. Somewhere. Somewhere." They found Elmer's mother in the back seat of her car, her clothing torn, her body bruised, her eyes lifeless but full of tears. They found Elmer in the easy chair covered with blood. He was wearing the paisley sweater that his mother had bought for him. He had always hated that sweater. It made him look like a dork. All the lonely people. Where do they all come from? All the lonely people. Where do they all belong? Mark Sebring (2007)

Reviewed by Mark Sebring

Reviewed on November 8, 2019

Fallen Leaves

I am not deep. I'm not an intellectual.
I'm not a musician, not a philosopher, not a poet.
I'm just a working man. Just an ordinary working man.
A man who's made money but failed at nearly everything else.
The kind of man who's always alone, no matter who he's with.
The only one in Benson tonight who's not in a band.
The only one at the prom who couldn't find a date.
I know what it's like to be unwanted.
I'm Elmer Wigby in his green suspenders and his paisley sweater,
sitting in the easy chair watching "Rebel Without A Cause"
and praying for THE END OF THE WORLD.
I'm just one of the fallen leaves lying on the ground.
I'm just one of the fallen leaves waiting to be gathered.
I'm just one of the fallen leaves waiting for the fire.
Waiting to be cast into the lake of fire.

Mark Sebring (2014)

"He wished he could have had a friend like James Dean,
someone who would lend him their jacket,
someone who'd be there when the world ended."

"A hundred billion bottles washed up on the shore."
(All the lonely people.)

Eschaton

Sitting on my deck in the middle of the night,
a glass of whiskey in my hand,
listening to the sound of crickets,
basking in the glow of glorious moonlight,
realizing and accepting that the end of humanity
is as inevitable as the end of a day;
the end of every life.

There is a whole lot of evil in this world,
but there is also an abundance of beauty.
And there is still a trace of tenderness.
We should enjoy it for as long as we can.
Be kind to others for as long as we can.
Perhaps Wordsworth said it best.
We must find strength in what remains.

Mark Sebring (2026)

Everything is temporary.
It does no good to wish we will never die.
We should strive instead to live while we're alive.