Saturday, April 16, 2005

The Couch

We were sitting on the sofa bed
at the big Goodwill.
It's good isnt it.
Yes it's good.
I like the hump in the back.
It has swoop.
It's Simmons and when we pull out
the bed it's clean, the date is 1982. The
buttons in the blue mattress are pearly.
Everything is half price. They are
closing down the Adelaide Goodwill.
Can we get it delivered.
There are cards by the phone for
I talk to Frank. Frank will meet me
at seven.
So we go home. And I start to worry about
the size of it.
I dont know if it will fit down the hall.
Or up the stairs. Or in the doorway.
I meet Frank. And watch the man with a
hydraulic forklift carry two couches
to Frank's big truck. A man with one
arm is with Frank.
I'm Frank's navigator, he says.
The truck is big enough to hold two couches.
The two of them, sitting back there.
And we drive to Roncesvalles via Gardiner.
Is the Skydome now called the Rogers Centre?
The footings for nine new condos.
Frank does a U-turn to our door.
And then we lift the couch up.
It's a heavy couch with the pull-out
bed. It must be four hundred pounds.
It's almost seven feet long. And the
arms are boxy. I feel like I'm seeing
it for the first time.
It's a good couch, the man with one
arm says. He looks like he wants
to sit on it.
We get almost all of it through the
door and up four steps.
But then Frank can't get the last leg in.
The man with one arm says, Try up. Okay
down. Now twist a little. I
realize the man with one arm is the
navigator for things like this.
Youre going to have to saw it off, I say.
And I get Frank a saw.
Oh man, he says.
But begins sawing the foot off.
A woman walks by: I hope youre
bringing that out, she says, and
not in.
Frank: She's laughing at me, man.
She thinks I'm a destroyer.
He saws the leg off and hands it
to me and we get it moving. Up two flights of
stairs to the apartment, where I've
taken the door off its hinges. We
lift it vertical and then drop it down
into the hallway. Where it seizes up.
It fills the hall to the kitchen.
Where does it go, Frank says.
We have to turn it around and go down
towards the living room, I say.
Oh man.
But youve done enough, I say.
How much do I owe you.
You pay me what you want, Frank says.
I pay him and Frank and the man
with one arm shake my hand. They are
both unhappy with the sawed leg.
I'll spare you the rest, just it took
four hours to get that couch down the hall
and into the living room. I bet it's the
largest thing this room has ever had
sitting in it.


Blogger Jozef Imrich, Esq. said...

Brilliant piece. look forward to hearing your thoughts in Sydney in May at the Writers Festival ...

9:06 p.m.  

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