The Problem of Being the Wine
After reading Robert Hass
A woman who liked me once recommended my vintage
to a folksinger I seemed to love.
He told me “Judy said you have the soul of a butterfly in there
and we must make love if you would like that.”
Being young is such a snare and makes gifts of this nature
impossible to either use or refuse. ( Likewise, being old.)
So I poured for him that quick drink with the flutter of wings before
he left for graduate school and his war exemption.
He wrote he lost his blue eyed music, gave his heart to a restless
housewife, wet Pensacola nights, palm trees and a blonde summer.
Blowing down the road to the dustbowl in your cyclone of winter dark eyes
and skittering aspen-leaf hair seemed the only logical response.
Robert Hass is a celebrated modern American poet, post-beat, translator of haiku, and former Poet Laureate of the US from 1995-97. Among other things, this poem is a pastiche of his somewhat laconic style.
Image: Gold, by stephee on flick'r
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