These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
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BLACK WATER, An Adaptation of a Theme from a German Movie* Water in the forest, terrible black water, A pond over rot and dead leaves, You lie silent, quiet, you, you stay and are still, Unmoving, yet the storm rages around the wood. In the groves pines lean; The nets of spiders are torn apart, And then the splintering begins. You in the hollow, you, you rest, black water. Branches fall, leaves scatter, Bark peals from trees and flies in every direction at once. All woodland shelter vanishes. Yet nothing reaches you, down there, black water.
*I first heard the expression of this phrase in Rainer Werner Fassbinder, “Berlin Alexanderplatz.” But I have embellished his original sentiment.
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RED ROOF INN, Love a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey Darling, darling, girl, Much between us remains unsaid. Remember that first overnight date at the Red Roof Inn? I am in search of this lost time. An impossibly large bed stretched out across the room. Between its feet and a long chest of drawers A narrow aisle traveled the length. It ran from the front door to the rear of the room. And you, there, in your bikini briefs, At the end of the aisle, you were in an alcove, An enclosure directly opposite the bathroom. The area occupied half the suite’s entire width. Your back to me, You stood up against a cantilever table. It was a wall-to-wall vanity with a big mirror. The mirror, you recall, was as long as the table’s surface, And it covered the entire back wall up to the ceiling. Recessed lamps provided light from overhead. You brushed your hair, and With each stroke I witnessed the sinews beneath your skin, Your bones, how your shoulder blades flexed. I rose up from the bed, Took a few steps, And then, still from behind you, I remained behind you, I bent my torso forward at the waist. I was squatting on my haunches, When I extended my arms between your legs.
Each one of my hands was wrapped around one of your ankles. My fingers held you just above your feet; My thumbs pressed upon your Achilles tendons. Head-down, I pulled myself close to you. My left shoulder went to the center, It rested within a spot between your buttocks and legs. The left side of my chin found a niche, It touched the back of your right knee. That was my posture when I had at first embraced you. Once I stood up, Regained at least some sense of composure, I told you that I had never personally encountered a woman, Who looked so much the better naked than clothed. “Wow!” Burst out. And you said, “You sure know how to compliment a girl.” I was dumbfounded. I thought for a moment; I took a moral attitude, yet my tongue was tied. I spoke these words, yet they were only to myself. ‘Woman! Trust my veracity. ‘Do not confuse my honest praise with flattery.’ Then, pretending to further my defense, I more or less recalled the poet’s immortal words, Those lines about truth and beauty being one, And is not response to beauty, truth? I ran the maxim in my mind. I remained speechless. ‘Beauty is truth, truth beauty.’ I dwelled in total awe of you. And when old age our generation shall waste, And time brings world to more and other woes, We have had this moment and its sentiment remains – ‘Darling, that is all,’ I quoted the lines to myself, I had not uttered a word aloud, ‘You know on earth, and all you need to know.’
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RED
ROOF INN, Love
a Few Miles North of Trenton, New Jersey Darling,
darling, girl, Much
between us remains unsaid.
Remember
that first overnight date at the Red Roof Inn?
I
am in search of this lost time.
An
impossibly large bed stretched out across the room. Opposite
from the bed frame’s feet, A
long chest of drawers rested flat against the wall. A
narrow aisle traveled from the suite’s front door Running
between the furniture to the rear of the room.
And
you, there, in your bikini briefs,
At
the end of the aisle, you were in an alcove,
An
enclosure directly opposite the bathroom. The
area occupied half the suite’s entire width.
Your
back to me,
You
stood up against a cantilever table. It
was a wall-to-wall vanity with a big mirror. The
mirror, you recall, was as long as the table’s surface,
And
it covered the entire back wall up to the ceiling.
Recessed
lamps provided light from overhead.
While standing before the table’s edge your face to the mirror You brushed your hair. With each stroke I witnessed the sinews beneath your skin, Your bones, how your shoulder blades flexed.
I
rose up from the bed, Took
a few steps, And
then, still from behind you, I
remained behind you, I
bent my torso forward at the waist. I
was squatting on my haunches, When
I extended my arms between your legs. Each
one of my hands was wrapped around one of your ankles. My
fingers held you just above your feet; My
thumbs pressed upon your Achilles tendons.
Head-down,
I pulled myself close to you. My
left shoulder went to the center,
It
rested within a spot between your buttocks and legs. The
left side of my chin found a niche, It
touched the back of your right knee.
That
was my posture when I had at first embraced you.
Once
I stood up,
Regained
some sense of my equanimity, I
told you that
I
had never personally encountered a woman, Who
looked so much the better naked than clothed.
“Wow!”
Burst out. And you said, “You
sure know how to compliment a girl.”
I
was dumbfounded. I thought for a moment; Then
I took a moral attitude, yet my tongue was tied. Though
I spoke these words, they were only to myself. ‘Woman!
Trust my veracity.
‘Do
not confuse my honest praise with flattery.’
Then,
pretending to further my defense, I
more or less recalled the poet’s immortal words, Those
lines about truth and beauty being one, And
is not response to beauty, truth?
I
ran the maxim in my mind. I remained speechless. ‘Beauty
is truth, truth beauty.’
I
dwelled in total awe of you.
And
when old age our generation shall waste,
And
time brings world to more and other woes, We
have had this moment and its sentiment remains – ‘Darling,
that is all,’ I quoted the lines to myself,
I
had not uttered a word aloud,
