There had been rain throughout the province
Cypress & umbrella pines in a palsy of swirling mists
Bent against the onshore whipping winds
I had been so looking forward to your silence
What a pity it never arrived
The uniforms of arrogance had been delivered only
That morning to the new ambassador & his stable of lovers
The epaulettes alone would have made a lesser man weep
But I know my place & I know my business
& I know my own mind so it never occured to me
To listen as you recited that litany of automatic
miseries
Familiar to all victims of class warfare & loveless
circumstance
By which I mean of course you & your kind
But I know my place & I know my business & baby
I know my own grieving summer mind
Still I look a lot like Scott Fitzgerald tonight with
my tall
Tumbler of meander & bourbon & mint just clacking my
ice
To the noise of the streetcar ratcheting up some
surprise
I had been so looking forward to your silence
& what a pity it never arrived
Now those alpha waves of desire light up the horizon
Just the way my thoughts all blew wild-empty as you
stood
In the doorway to leave in the doorway to leave
Yet I know my place & I know my business & I know those
Melodies melodies & the music of my own mind
:: from The Southern Review
drunken library 