"A Coney Island of the Mind" & lesbian porn,
it turns out,
segue perfectly
with Chopin's Prelude in E-Minor
(op.28 no. 4)
Did Frederic know?
The moans
and the crescendos;
Her tongue
and that piano...
~
Ceiling caved in
yesterday
Blocks of cement
fell, almost,
on our heads
~
Redwood--or is that cedar?--
I guess it doesn't matter...
I painted my nails, (Firehouse Red);
and there's Franzia Chianti and Patsy Cline.
There's a letter on some label,
saying keep away from heat and flame--
But, still:
singing out of tune,
Tennessee Waltz
means more...
I blew you,
and you left me.
There is more to this, there's
something outside this--
I Fall To Pieces.
Last night, I was
a great poet.
Now?
Franzia chianti,
and alone.
~
It was
that night
the ghost
turned the gas on
the front burner.
We were sitting in the
living room,
having a good conversation.
What was it?
We smelled gas,
and it ended.
Can't remember.
~
(New apartment--
not the next day,
but may as well be--)
New ghost--
the old one is
Ann's problem now.
An old woman
died downstairs,
it took days...
I saw her,
behind me
in the glass...
She didn't say anything--
What is there to say?
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