4934. CHASTITY DRAWERS

CHASTITY DRAWERS
In the time-worn condition of masterful suspense;
they await, they look for, they stare. These crazy
locals, shoremen and clammers, carpenters and
thieves. I am none of them. I have built a boat of
dreams, and sailed away long ago. Now the only
thing in my wake is the rustle of a sad, dark sea.
No one can see it : I am without reference. Bayonne
to Ship Bottom, and all those places between - the
inlets and islets, the coves and the bays, all the
places where poison passages and memory's warp
are left. In all of this, we must be polite. Even these
islanders have a protocol amongst themselves.
-
No eggs in the morning; no pancakes after two.
The garages and carports cannot have locks; you
may not await your neighbor's return. This, this is
the Book of Life by which we enter this stable
community. I am yours, and I am not. Altogether.

Saying things you don't say? Is that it. The baseball
has a cartwheel that is changing each day on the lake
of the lagoon where the bicycle caretakers chase
woodpeckers and loons. Where each man's daughter
wears her chastity drawers. Where the Summer frames
equal the Winter's warmth, and every fireside chat is
about the house that is burning next door. Bring me
the head of Diego Garcia. Bring his head, indeed.