How to Have a Visitor

H is flying in to see you for a long weekend. He works at a place where you get every possible holiday, a bank or a school or the government. You don’t know exactly what he does. Something involving numbers. You have known each other since college, from college. You’ve seen him once or twice a year since graduation: same place, same time kind of things. But this is his first visit to see you, just to see you. He lives far enough away that driving isn’t feasible. Especially because you hate to drive and he doesn’t own a car. Th omas, always for you Th omas and never Tom, Th omas lives in Boston. He doesn’t, he says, need a car. How nice for him! Your car, on the other hand, has been acting up: making rude noises, stalling. Mornings you pump the gas (three times three is the magic number) and hope that it will start. Th ere is really no other way to get around where you live in Texas. Th omas takes the T, the mass transit in Boston, Massachusetts. You mix up the words, try to fit it into a limerick: