Evan Bones Kendall's Site

Afterword

        My name is Evan Kendall. My wife, to whom this collection is written, nicknamed me Bones because I’m so skinny…and I prefer Bones to Jesus, which is another word she uses to describe me when I take off my shirt and expose my torso. I’m pale, too. When I put on a white T-shirt and walk out the door she will say: “You better go back inside and put a shirt on,” or: “They won’t serve you in the restaurant without a shirt.”
        Ahhh…the joys of cohabitation. But I wouldn’t have become a poet without her teaching me to laugh at myself. At the time I happened to work for a very serious man and I prayed daily to the gods of poetry not to turn out all serious like him.
        Speaking of work, I had a picture of Mikka on my desk and a production assistant came into my office and saw it.
        “Is that your girlfriend?” he asked incredulously.
        “My wife, actually. Isn’t she beautiful?”
        “She is…man, what’s she doing with you?”
        That’s a good question. What is this beautiful, stylish and witty girl doing agreeing to marry a guy who would rather be an artist than be financially secure?
        The only reason I ever got from her was when she said it’s because I give her butterflies in her stomach.
       Now, I’m a slow guy who doesn’t understand the first thing about emotions. I may have read a bunch of books, but what good are they? (“You got ripped off!” Mikka is fond of reminding me when the student loan payments are due.) She was teaching me something I knew intellectually, but not actually. I listened to her, but I didn’t really understand her then. It was later, after the first year of marriage that I finally understood her metaphor for love.
        Wow! What a revelation! You can express love through metaphor! I remember thinking to myself that it would get old if I kept repeating, “I love you” over and over again over the course of our lives. I knew I had to think of a better way to express how I feel and finally I understood that that’s what my girl had taught me before we got married. Why did it take me so long to realize? Because so many good things take time to appreciate.
        Since human beings create meaning in our lives, it is possible, over time, to turn an ordinary love into an extraordinary one. Some people buy things for loved ones; some build palaces like the Taj Mahal. Me, I write poetry. As much as I want to live a poetic life, Mikka has taught me that my life is no different from anybody else’s—there are bills to pay, public restrooms to use, an employer to work for—really, the only place to live a poetic life is in language. Luckily I have a source of material unlike any other. Mikka really is my inspiration, even when she’s making fun of me…especially when she’s making fun of me.
        Surprisingly, Mikka was kind enough to agree to let me try and sell these poems. My goal is to inspire others who seek to convey their truths not by showing off themselves, but by showing that to which they are devoted and the level at which they are devoted to it. For me, it was love that spawned these poems…even if they are all lies.
        I leave you with one final anecdote: on a cold night in a small northern California community, I was standing next to a six-foot tall wooden stake serving as support for a growing sapling. A few of us were waiting for a table at a restaurant. The wind blew hard and Mikka came near me and said: “Keep me warm.” If that doesn’t make you laugh, let me explain. Mikka didn’t hug me for warmth; instead she hugged the wooden stake, pretending to confuse it with skinny me. Resigned to my fate, I had the good sense to laugh.