Wednesday, April 23, 2014

5283. HERE'S THE TITLE

HERE'S THE TITLE
Every Tuesday it seems I ride the same train as
Paul Muldoon  -  he always comes scampering in,
a mess, and almost dishevelled. Sets up his papers 
or a writing board or something, and seems to get to
work on some large-format ledger book. We smile, 
say hello, once or twice have conversed. He once shot
me down, mercilessly, with some crack like 'I really don't
have the time to discuss the minutia of Anne Beattie now.'
Well, I don't know, I thing that was it; last year. I winced,
but forgave him. (Now I speak of his own minutia, no?).
It used to be people were bi-coastal, or multi-tasked, or 
whatever those social-types said. Here, then there, there
here agin. he's like that too  -  peripetatic mind-bender,
on the monied go,with fame, prestige and privilege.
All that stuff beats me. Positive for him - yes - to say
at least he's not a stupid phone guy; endlessly babbling
and texting and looking at screens. I like that. Kindred.
But now what would I call it, if I had to call it?

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