VIII. Cosmos

I have a television in my elderly limousine,

The one I will vend next week to my friend Xavier.

For above a year now it's stood in my driveway

Since you were the single one I would let drive it.

Last summer finally, I clasped up my new video player

Th its small TV & since then that's where I advance

To watch all of my fading tapes of you

The individual of you doing the hully-gully with Nico at the ashram;

Or bathing for hours in that elderly tin tub high in the Sierras;

my favorite, where you walk the frozen roads of Philadelphia

Humming random passages of Madame Butterfly I still miss

The back of your head, too, especially the impressible baby-like skin

At the nape of your neck freckl lightly, like the grain

Of a certain number of unearthly wood; & I still miss the skinny band

Of platinum hair that touched that skin, & the way

Its moderately cold silver shone below the stiff cutting side of your

Chauffeur's cap. I know the neighbors think it's strange the way

I sit here going nowhere, the TV upon the tapes all showing

The endles road ahead, & the stilled, impassible night.

Copyright World verse Incorporated Mar/Apr 1998

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