I suppose I should say something about her,
Child of depression on the footpath
Circling the Great Lawn
In Central Park on Christmas Day.
I suppose I should attach significance
To the fact that it was she, Louise,
With her Karl Malden face, and not
Some American beauty queen.I received her with politeness,
Listening long enough to hear her
Say the museum would be open
The following day to provide a place
Of refuge from her solitary state.A former drug addict took the stage.
All my life I’ve been a petty thief,
But I’m not about that now.
Now I give and give and give.
He had a militant way with his speech
Sufficient to summon clouds.
Blondes in party dresses sat nearby,
Having practiced their finest moves.
Hearing someone proclaim, God’s bounty,
They all stood up.Louise and I reached into the sky.
What a thrill to have a writing tablet
There at hand. We let God know we
Were tired of dying. We told him
Maybe he wouldn’t mind
Some dying of his own so he could
See how humans live and made
Bitter jokes about his senile state.Halfway through our written rant
We fell asleep, not as lovers often do,
But on the separate benches
The whimsy of the wind had led us to.December 2003