See You in Seattle - Flipbook - Page 19
19
I sink to the carpet
of our old living room,
a sacrifice to the stereo,
dead plants in perpetual bloom:
Eliot’s Wasteland for two.
part 2
I hear a rhapsody—
the howl of the harbor.
The monk hammers on
and in a sweat, I regather
the midnight drunk
must bite
the hair of the dog.
In a pinch, I reconcile.
The needle sets
and ousts
a muffled blow,
an airy whine
from Stan Getz.
nobody gets you like I do.
nobody gets me like you do.
