A Personal Note


Without coffee, my morning is terrible, has become my cliche.

To believe her bridge too classical, she insisted I should know . . .

What was it that I should know?

I should look at the pictures painted on Greek vases,

She said one if her teachers had said, and so then should I.

We pause to look at a variety of vases

Among the collection of Greek pottery at the Met.

A profile too classical, I thought.

She said that no one she knows has her nose.

Beautiful I thought, seeing her seeing me–

I watched her obliquely.

I fell headlong into her eyes.

Something smaller this time,

Not a stone, no stone, into the waves,

A pebble, I toss.

What would it mean to be-go,

All of what has been considered between . . .

To be-gone, to be-come, to be-have.


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