NOW I'M THE
ONE DUNKING
Hirsute cabana. It's the one with
the rough edging. I come and go
from here like fuzz on a peach's
baby; make mine an Orangina, OK?
Since heckling has been outlawed
I can hardly say a word - these
days it's all so quiet. I think I'll
find me a Brooklyn trolley that
goes to Fort Green. They still have
those, right?
-
You know, I used to spend days and
hours trying to write like Hart Crane.
No, that's not true, I'm just kidding.
Better then he was, ever, was that
sportswriter poet Bret Harte Crane.
I liked him too. Until I found John
Ashbery. And all he did was lead
me to you. There's a lot of loss left
in all these gains we still treasure.
Now I'm the one dunking, but
I'm here at my pleasure.
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