A yellowed warm light brought to a pink glow Bach in the background Your soul dark and reddened like your hair awaits my explorations You straighten your skirt puff a cigarette The smoke dissolves into the flame of the candle Shall I begin by speaking of Kant and Spinoza? Or shall I enter into a dainty aspect of a dream? We have time we sip our coffee "oh no only fifteen minutes are left!" "your clock is wrong." "Oh I beg your pardon." "It is quite alright" Sweet to sit in church with you Just you and I talking about ME You finger the small Mandela stone that sits on your small Mandela round table I watch a murder image that comes before my eyes You rub the stone I rub my eyes I could shout Heil Hitler and click my heels and storm around your living room instead I sing and ode to a cherry blossom My spleen hurts what can be the matter? murder and again murder plus murder.
Irwin R. Shaw - December 1984
My Seven Years of Therapy
A yellowed warm light
brought to a pink glow
Bach in the background
Your soul dark and reddened
like your hair
awaits my explorations
You straighten your skirt
puff a cigarette
The smoke dissolves
into the flame of the candle
Shall I begin
by speaking
of Kant and Spinoza?
Or shall I enter
into a dainty aspect
of a dream?
We have time
we sip our coffee
"oh no
only fifteen minutes are left!"
"your clock is wrong."
"Oh I beg your pardon."
"It is quite alright"
Sweet to sit in church with you
Just you and I
talking about ME
You finger the small
Mandela stone
that sits on your small
Mandela round table
I watch a murder image
that comes before my eyes
You rub the stone
I rub my eyes
I could shout
Heil Hitler
and click my heels
and storm
around
your living room
instead
I sing and ode
to a cherry blossom
My spleen hurts
what can be the matter?
murder
and again
murder plus murder.