SECTION THIRTEEN
POETRY PAGE ONE

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COLUMN FIFTY-FIVE, JANUARY 1, 2001
(Copyright © 2001 Al Aronowitz)


(Photo © 1995, Sunday Star, Auckland )

A Wicker Basket

[From The Selected Poems of Robert Creeley, by Robert Creeley. Copyright © 1991 by The Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Used with permission of the author. Originally published in For Love: Poems 1950-1960 (Scribner 1962).]

 

 

Comes the time when it's later
and onto your table the headwaiter
puts the bill, and very soon after
rings out the sound of lively laughter--  

Picking up change, hands like a walrus,
and a face like a barndoor's,
and a head without any apparent size,
nothing but two eyes--  

So that's you, man,
or me. I make it as I can,
I pick up, I go
faster than they know--  

Out the door, the street like a night,
any night, and no one in sight,
but then, well, there she is,
old friend Liz--  

And she opens the door of her cadillac,
I step in back,
and we're gone.
She turns me on--  

There are very huge stars, man, in the sky,
and from somewhere very far off someone hands
     me a slice of apple pie,
with a gob of white, white ice cream on top of it,
and I eat it--  

Slowly. And while certainly
they are laughing at me, and all around me is racket
of these cats not making it, I make it  

in my wicker basket.  ##

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