Love Poem #2
I have always liked fire escapes
Standing by a kitchen window at a party in someone’s apartment
Or a bedroom window of some girl I have recently met
Who smells of soap and shampoo and incense
And some mysterious fourth ingredient
And seeing the rusted metal of a fire escape
I imagine climbing down
I imagine sneaking away into an alley that leads to a different life
That difficult last step:
A ladder that extends downward
A ladder of questionable integrity
Into an alley—the sort of alley they have in movies
Where black cats pop out of garbage cans on cue
And a large rat disturbs the reflection of the moon in a puddle
I imagine the fire escape like that
And imagine fleeing
As if this party or this girl
Was a building actually on fire
Standing by a kitchen window at a party in someone’s apartment
Or a bedroom window of some girl I have recently met
Who smells of soap and shampoo and incense
And some mysterious fourth ingredient
And seeing the rusted metal of a fire escape
I imagine climbing down
I imagine sneaking away into an alley that leads to a different life
That difficult last step:
A ladder that extends downward
A ladder of questionable integrity
Into an alley—the sort of alley they have in movies
Where black cats pop out of garbage cans on cue
And a large rat disturbs the reflection of the moon in a puddle
I imagine the fire escape like that
And imagine fleeing
As if this party or this girl
Was a building actually on fire
3 Comments:
You know, I read so much nonsense on the web. I read so much nonsense in literary mags; and I read it because that is what is expected, and I wonder what is wrong with me for thinking it is nonsense.
When I am at the bottom of that well full of dank, unpotable water that keeps telling me there is something wrong with me, I come here and read a line about cats popping out of cans on cue and rats disturbing the reflection of the moon, and I realize I know some people who can actually write.
effing hell.
Yah, what Erin said.
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