JOHN ASHBERY
"The Plywood Years"

Here in the open, love lies apart,
singing to its beads. How reflective is that?
Don’t be such a goose, love said.
They’ll tinsel you.

They came after me and in the end I was a sot.
They said on TV it didn’t matter.
One fallen ice cube is left. The others go in.
So it was on your conscience the hangover happened?

You don’t want to call.
Others than you are surfeited.
Bobby Burns said a rose is like no other,
neither is a lintel a blood-red reef.

They came and sat on the pier next to me.
I had piqued their curiosity
just like in the old days.
One spoke to a kitten. They shrugged.

I hadn’t had the mirror experience in the hangar
yet. Those were all days tumbling over me like water,
like a scented caress. Then a bumble bee
gladdens earth with its silver sound.

We lived under tarpaper and ebony slats,
dragging one’s feet across the floor.
Oh if you’re going to then do it
advised the eggbeater. Time got left out of the equation.