Excerpt
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| Chapter One
Do you want to hear about the ants in my pants For a certain Ms. Hopeless? Or do you prefer me singing Amazing Grace? Past-Lives Therapy They explained to me the bloody bandages On the floor in the maternity ward in Rochester, N.Y. Cured the backache I acquired bowing to my old master, Made me stop putting thumbtacks round my bed. They showed me an officer on horseback, Waving a saber next to a burning farmhouse And a barefoot woman in a nightgown, Throwing stones after him and calling him Lucifer. I was a straw-headed boy in patched overalls. Come dark a chicken would roost in my hair. Some even laid eggs as I played my ukulele And my mother and father crossed themselves. Next, I saw myself inside an abandoned gas station Constructing a spaceship out of a coffin, Red traffic cone, cement mixer and ear warmers, When a church lady fainted seeing me in my underwear. Some days, however, they opened door after door, Always to a different room, and could not find me. There'd be only a small squeak now and then, As if a miner's canary got caught in a mousetrap. Street of Jewelers What each one of these hundreds Of windows did with the gold That was melting in them this morning, I cannot begin to imagine. I act like a prospective burglar Noting the ones that are open, Their curtains drawn to the side By someone stark naked, I may have just missed. Here, where no one walks now, And when he does, he goes softly, So as not to tip the scales In the act of weighing Specks of dust in the dying sunlight. Three Doors This one kept its dignity Despite being kicked And smudged with fingerprints. Someone wanted to get in Real bad. Now the whole neighborhood can see What went on late last night And the night before. Two clenched fists Raised high Pounding, pounding, And asking God To please bear witness. * * * This door's hinges, I suspect, Give off a nasty screech From seeing Too many feet caught in it. Just a minute ago, Some fellow With that it-pays-to-be-cagey look Snuck out. Screams of a child, Yelps of a kicked dog And wild laughter Followed after him. * * * I heard the neighbor's screen door Creak open at daybreak To let the cat in With what sounded like a stage whisper Into her still-dark kitchen. I could feel the black cat rub herself Against her bare legs And then take her first lick With her rough, red tongue Of the cold milk glowing in the saucer. The Avenue of Earthly Delights Hustlers of gold chains, Coming our way in the midnight crowd, Waving them up high Like angry rattlesnakes. A French-kissing couple Falling on the hood of a braking taxi, Still holding on to their drinks. Large and small African masks On a makeshift table With empty eye sockets, Mouths frozen in a scream A tangle of tanned arms, breasts Bathed in sweat slipping out Of a strapless dress, Short skirt like shreds of tinfoil Fluttering in an electric fan As she executes a dance step, Fingers popping, tongue sticking out As if this sultry night Was a delicious, creamy dessert, And we were all shortly due To hop into one big haystack, Dallying into the wee hours And the soft light of day-- Which dares not come-- With its funny side streets And the homeless, fallen off their crosses, Sprawled in dark doorways. Couple at Coney Island It was early one Sunday morning, So we put on our best rags And went for a stroll along the boardwalk Till we came to a kind of palace With turrets and pennants flying. It made me think of a wedding cake In the window of a fancy bakery shop. I was warm, so I took my jacket off And put my arm round your waist And drew you closer to me While you leaned your head on my shoulder, Anyone could see we'd made love The night before and were still giddy on our feet. We looked naked in our clothes Staring at the red and white pennants Whipped by the sea wind. The rides and shooting galleries With their ducks marching in line Still boarded up and padlocked. No one around yet to take our first dime. Angel Tongue Theresa, do you recall that dive Smoke-filled like a house on fire Where nightly we huddled In one of the rear booths Reading to each other from a book On the mystic way of life? You worked in a bridal shop With iron bars on its windows. The two brides on display Had tense little smiles for me Every time I stopped by While you peeked between them All prim and rosy-cheeked. We played an elaborate game Of hide-and-seek with words While pretending to find clues Of divine presence in streets Emptied at day's end, dark But for the sight of your lips Quivering from the cold As you told me of a light So fine, so rare, it lights The very light we see by. In the meantime, your eyes were Open so wide, I hurried To close them with kisses, While you ranted about mystic death With the tongue of an angel. Unmade Beds They like shady rooms, Peeling wallpaper, Cracks on the ceiling, Flies on the pillow. If you are tempted to lie down, Don't be surprised, You won't mind the dirty sheets, The rasp of rusty springs As you make yourself comfy. The room is a darkened movie theater Where a grainy, Black-and-white film is being shown. A blur of disrobed bodies In the moment of sweet indolence That follows lovemaking, When the meanest of hearts Comes to believe Happiness can last forever.
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Night Picnic