The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying “Hey! I’ve been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don’t be so rude, you are
only the second poet I’ve ever chosen
to speak to personally

Dante
I could guide you into depravity but I’m not sure I could
lead either of us back out.

The fluorescent tubing burns like a bobby-soxer’s ankles
the white paint the green leaves in an old champagne bottle
and the formica shelves going up in the office

Oh Barbara! do you think
they’ll ever name anything after us like
rue Henri-Barbusse or

I sit in your T shirt
with its spots of paint
as a certain fierceness pours

You walk into a theatre in the semi-dark
a tiny stage holding up a candle
a few actors are pacing from shadow to shadow

I belong here. I was born
here. The palms sift their fingers
and the men shove by in shirts,

I am so glad that Larry Rivers made a
statue of me

Perhaps I’m kidding myself about
the life I lead

Sometimes I feel I’m dying

So they made room for all the bricks and stones
When they moved to the country. It was part of
America’s expansion.