加载中…【弗兰克·奥哈拉的诗歌】
(2015-09-12 01:40:10) A Step Away from Them
It’s my lunch
hour, so I go
for a walk among
the
hum-colored
cabs. First,
down the
sidewalk
where laborers
feed their
dirty
glistening
torsos sandwiches
and Coca-Cola,
with yellow
helmets
on. They protect
them from
falling
bricks, I guess.
Then onto
the
avenue where
skirts are
flipping
above heels and
blow up
over
grates. The sun
is hot, but
the
cabs stir up the
air. I
look
at bargains in
wristwatches.
There
are cats playing
in sawdust.
to Times Square,
where the sign
blows smoke over
my head, and
higher
the waterfall
pours lightly.
A
Negro stands in
a doorway with
a
toothpick,
languorously
agitating.
A blonde chorus
girl clicks:
he
smiles and rubs
his chin.
Everything
suddenly honks:
it is 12:40
of
a
Thursday.
great pleasure,
as Edwin Denby
would
write, as are
light bulbs in
daylight.
I stop for a
cheeseburger
at JULIET’S
CORNER. Giulietta Masina, wife
of
Federico
Fellini, è bell’ attrice.
And chocolate
malted. A lady
in
foxes on such a
day puts her
poodle
in a cab.
Ricans on the
avenue today,
which
makes it
beautiful and warm.
First
Bunny died, then
John
Latouche,
then Jackson
Pollock. But is
the
earth as full as
life was full, of
them?
And one has
eaten and one
walks,
past the
magazines with
nudes
and the posters
for BULLFIGHT and
the Manhattan
Storage
Warehouse,
which they’ll
soon tear down.
I
used to think
they had the
Armory
Show
there.
and back to
work. My heart is in
my
pocket, it is
Poems by Pierre Reverdy.
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