Lynn Otto

9/24/1011:  A few years ago, I wrote a poem called "Something Else."  I thought of it while I was at my MFA orientation meeting last night.  I think I've definitely found my "something else!"
 
Something Else

It’s not the house I thought it was--
I can’t find the people who belong here--
just a bald man on the couch
watching Perry Mason re-runs,
a coffee mug perched on his pot belly.
 
Where are the children?
I peek in the bedrooms, familiar, but not.
The pot-bellied man refills his mug,
asks me if I’m looking for something--
I say no but mean yes--
 
And the commercial on the TV
claims that cooking school will launch me
into an exciting career
while some hunk in white
flambés shrimp in a sauté pan.
 
But this I know:
cooking makes my feet hurt,
so I’ll have to think of something else.