Friday, April 6, 2012
All the Chicago City Buildings
I mention towers of forests in cities.
'yes' he says 'their aim is to put gardens
on the top, here.'
N the man who knows more about architecture;
his stories as wareful as a miniature at the art institute.
certain groups pamphlet their way closer
i laugh 'poetry doesn't care how much money's spent on it
how many people think it makes sense
or whether the person in charge has a name tag or not'
it's time to get me things from latitudes
buy the most ironic and delicious please
like Sleeping Dogs wine from Roger Donaldson
or a case of Nantucket Nectars
(their OJ for breakfast this morning - lid a medal).
yes, blinks - last night between converse i wondered,
grumpy coat over my arm and a sugar low
why the waitress hadn't picked up the tab yet.
'being polite' said N and got up to rest the room.
Asian Fusion - scallop sashimi
and banana wontons with chocolate sauce;
near the hotel a lock talk away.
this morning walked out to doorman's, 'taxi?' bark;
but strode icy wind and sharp sun a remember.
DQ closed and polite about it,
along further found a cafe with notices,
a green and yellow booth seat.
had ordered a Chicago omelette and various.
smiled - realised K could be cc like the other K
'don'matter it's a habit, it's a life-style' says the man
in the booth next to mine to his murmuring girlfriend.
doubled doors between where we eat and the pavement,
an air lock for this warm place against the cold.
no matter how clever we are online or underground,
on terra firma there are few alternatives, (sane),
but to breathe and love and eat well where possible,
my many splendoured very best friend,
or so I imagine for a Valentine's card.
the television in here says, 'peanut butter' over and over,
people next to me speak German - parents and two children.
the woman waves a wrapped straw around benignly,
after I've drunk almost half the OJ from the bottle.
use the lower lip of the wide mouth
to place my lips carefully upon,
tip - neat as a nibble.
drinking this way helps keep my head up;
while young men at a pedestrian X-ing two days ago shouted,
'let's go' towards my ear as I passed after they whispered together.
a noisy version of French male admiration I suppose,
must be the Italian influence like the grandiose architecture.
o the buildings are so Milan railway station.
I'm given over to an illusion,
til someone decides we exist.
or this continues like a newly edited version of the same film,
each day an adventure movie I've never rehearsed,
and then when a secret test is passed
sunrise finds me each time more naked.
next I could remove my defenses,
except fencing is such good practise,
necessary reserves and duels on pages or screens.
an audience of sensationalists,
or shall we take this to somewhere more domestic for cleaning?
my tea cup tells me to wait and see,
giving away these layers of evening.
writing inside cosy where someone could visit,
the difference between bad
tempered reactions and believing impossible contentment.
onions cooking in fresh oil;
the TV says, 'that girl takes the correct tools'
and my medium tea almost gone
black in a disposable cup with koru on the outside,
or art nouveau pearls if you're European.
the caution sign in three languages
caution: contents hot
precaucion: contendo caliente
N said last night 'they add on to buildings now
where they stand, see that one there?
the three bands of blue flights?
they can make them glow higher.
that was the first.'
I try to send a ph-picture to someone and fuddle
by then a cocktail of a beast hour,
when visitors in other languages grow extra fingers.
N went on 'but when your observation desk gets closed,
then it's turned into a nightclub or a restaurant,
well, you know then you're gone.'
I think he imagines gildings are people
or the versa visa - some bold-sigh flick for times frost,
but laugh when it's suggested i'm in a watch.
yes, all day and night the sky and earth while birds circle
telling on me and felling these trees I'm replanting.
but as if i didn't flow to surrender before now,
when laced with my tiny fleck in this massive picture,
and soon to land in NY after sleeping along the rails.
my map written wavely over with someone's non-fish list,
the rest as invisible as the speaking Chicago wind.
Posted by Brightspark Books at 9:30 AM