Following angioplasty at y2-K I had gentle but convincing symptoms of angina despite 
two years of Spartan eating habits and constant exercise. The morning of my heart 
surgery I awoke with this poem in my mind and wrote it to my wife, Bernice very quickly. 
Bernice would have to tell you if I lived up to my promise - perhaps she'll lie on my behalf.

This surgery and the subsequent recovery led to a sustained renewal of my poetic 
efforts. I had been very secretive about my angioplasty, not wanting to reveal any 
suggestion of weakness at CCNY, where my job still seemed at risk. But after the 
heart surgery, when the situation was clearly better at CCNY, and where there was 
no longer any use in covering up, I sent the poem to several friends and relatives.  

Below is a poem written in response by  my great friend, Bob Salzman, a multitalented
musician. It led to a series of dueling poems for about a year that was crucial to 
my revival as a poet 
On to the Cutting Board   5:30 EDT, Thursday 23 May 2002

If I should be one of the unlucky few
Who do not manage to make it through
With so much left in life to do.
Just don't miss me, for I won't miss you.

And on those days you do miss me.
Just think that I have gone to sea
Or went climbing in Yosemite.
And will be back in two weeks or three.

My passing is not fact but rumor
I had a strong heart, I had no tumor
I loved my life and kept my humor
And my portion of years was much more
Than I ever could have expected

But if you see me wake again
Bear with me through all my pain
I'll try to never once complain
For each day with you will be my gain
And much more than I could have expected.


Bob Salzman's Response


19 August 2002
In many ways your poem is stark
Pessimistic, somewhat dark
Surely though it hits the mark
But not what I expected

For if you didn't make it through
I would feel forever blue
To lose a friend so tried and true
I'm glad I wasn't subjected
 
We've shared our lives for many years
Had our joys, had our tears
Commiserated about the world
And the assholes we've elected

  Now that you are on the mend
And not expecting your life to end
I will remain your lifelong friend
Whose love for you never defected

 You may not be able to swim the 'fly
Faster walkers may pass you by
You may ask, "Why me?" and cry
But don't get reinfected
 
So here's to you Stan
You are the man
Live life as best you can
Without feeling dejected

I'm glad you're coming to terms with all this and getting ready to enjoy life at its fullest.  May we have many long years together

Love,  Bob        P.S.:  How is next Monday for me to come down?

You wrote that poem so fast
Your talent must be vast
I'm proud of you at last.
So come on down Monday - We'll have a blast.
PS
My friends are all so witty
On me they take great pity
And when I'm feeling shitty.
They'll stop to write a ditty.