Il B Willi IOW* r Qmizooys, i HAD n FRIGHTENING DREAM * LASTMIGHT' UJE WERE IN fl RECEPTION HALL M THE SIZE OF SOUTH JERSEY AND 1 COULDN'T SPOT ANYONE I KNEIV.' A GUY SHARING MY HAND 5R/P । HE'D BEEN W FAMILY’S PAPERBOY IN I?SH/ ' L THEN THE GLASSES (VERE CLINKING MADLY SO I . L TURNED TO KISS YOU- AND - A ND - ; IT'SNOT SO BPD.J you JUST -4 CLOSE YOUR SYS 5. You (VERE IYE // I DIDN'T L KNOW LUHAT TO DO! C Iniitbiim'wu here or there, ring or carat, church or state, hand or foot, a rhymed couplet; your medicine chest, your embankments, -your official form with pink slip, your swivel, your stern forehead and your firm aft; your perfect heart; permission or exile, scrutinized or skimmed, pedigreed or tousled, or sheer greed or agreeably sheer— with a couple on the cake and a couple in the punch and a couple on the Edge; gimmicked or boobytrapped or with Tante Frieda warbling some forgettable hymn so loudly that the organist flairs his jowls; I want to marry you; your nose and knees, in bakeoff or meltdown, with laws posted and desperados known, with a judge gone mad, with a witness hallucinating: yes your honor I saw everything; your perfect heart, your elbow, your endlessly refried hair, your spectacularly conversational stretches of thigh, your Other elbow, your utensils and your cuttlebone; I went to confession and said bless me Father for I have sinned but not nearly as much as I had hoped because it wasn’t with the woman of my thunder-showering and immaculately-receiving dreams; she’s nonesuch I wagged, she’s nonpareil; she’s every unforgiveably moronic lyric turned good; and the priest asked after your name and number so I gave him the first I saw in the booth, a phonebooth to god both ways; I wouldn’t tell him yours out of territorial dream; I knew why priests were priests and how loose the frocks were made; is there a double meaning to This?—no, you don’t understand, I mean this This, I want to marry your this and your smile and your photograph of your childhood dog with his mouth being pulled and poked into his smile by your fingers; and your priest and your priest’s frock poking like an elbow, the holy and the holier, thy rod and thy staff meeting, strike or spare, garden or salad, soup, stuff that can steam and bubble, stuff that can clench and reappraise, your priest feeding quarter after quarter into peepconfessional so dancefloor of my forehead can be seen; knees or needs I want to marry your knowing style, your knowing frown, your knowing resumS, your passenger-side-only-kiss, your knowing dumbstare, your priest feeding quarter after quarter into state fair arcade novelty that makes a chicken play basketball with tater tot; your kiss, your tear-filled rebound, your perfectly evolved rump, I want to marry your perfectly evolved uncle and your perfectly evolved uncle’s priest and your perfectly evolved priest’s uncle and his rump; I want to marry the way you borrow a pencil, blue or red or eyebrow, north or l-don’t-know-which-way or south, / want to marry you your bottomline, your partyline, your punchline, your perfectly evolved argument for creationism; your perfect heart; get me a beer; I want to marry your very sexist winks and lubricating whistles, I want to marry your daughter, your interest in what I do, my interest payments on your interest payments, the way you act polite when the cliff is crumbling and the planet is gnashing its continents, your exquisite nudge of hip, I want to marry your syllabicated moans, your counterfeit duckbill, your wax lips and that green stick of lip rustoleum That’s the only thing on the planet that’s kissed you more than I; listen I wish it were a lot easier then this huge clutter of phrases like pick-up sticks, like silks from hat, but if I just said I love you, left it at that I’d be an insurance agent; I want to marry you, budget or anthem, promise or lie, pass or raise, rice or potato, park or drive I want to marry your magnificent luggage, your fixtures, your checking account, your resilient chrome, your cold shoulder and hot curve, ivory or leather, cashew, lace, your antihistamines and this slab of sourdough bread; your perfect heart; this is a case of deliberate overdose. I went into a department store and told a clerk all about your butt; she seemed startled but impressed with my sincerity; she called the security guards over, not to interfere but so that they could listen too; one of them walkie-talkied the office upstairs and got them to turn down the muzak, shut off the escalators, see if they could do something about the humming of fluorescent tubes; by the time I was through they were weeping with joy, all wanting to be sex objects; when the fever broke I was in jail; I want to marry you a double ceremony so we can both be in it, time or temperature, stimulus response, book or stage play, plot or scratchboard, fur or the deep blue sea I want to marry your radiator, your oven, your Freudian slip, your garter snake, and your perfect heart; kiss the bribe Doubt thou the stars are fire. Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar, But never doubt I love. —Shakespeare
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy NTc4NTAz