"His and Hers"

“His and Hers”

                 a parable

                       I

His tastes ran toward the old—

Antiques; knickknacks sold

At an eccentric’s former estate;

Flea-market stuff few experts could date.

Chromolithographic prints

Inviting professorial squints;

Ivory and bronzes of late vintage

Formed his archeological assemblage.

                       II

She, glad in disposition,

Had in her possession

A cheery set of objects: so bright

As to assault one’s sense of sight.

Gewgaws (what she called a “variety”

Of Yuletide ornaments), all of gaudy

Manufacture, gave her heart a lift.

Such, between his view and hers, was the rift.

                       III

One day, out of caprice,

She gathered every piece

Of forlorn junk he owned, and with a smile

Threw the antiquarian pile

Into an industrial furnace,

Which hissed and roared in earnest,

Turning every trinket, tin, and medal

Into smoke and molten metal.

Learning of this holocaust,

He vowed revenge, whatever the cost,

Bulldozing into a pit her cutesy

(i.e., Hallmark, Hobby Lobby, Disney)

Crap, covering it over with dirt,

As though assuaging his hurt—

Her entire personal collection,

Like his, consigned to oblivion.

                       IV

Yet nature and posterity

Turn every calamity

To some use: his formless metal,

Years later, becomes the material

(A mix of new-fangled alloys)

Used to make cheap charms and toys.

Decades pass, and, excavated,

Her tchotchkes, now discolored, are traded

And celebrated as antiques

By the same old melancholic geeks.

Even in the most heart-rending

Twists of fate, there is hope; but the ending

Of this tale of his and hers

Can hardly be worse.