"Gimme some of those jelly doughnuts." Elvis Presley
This early spring sunlight looks wet and underfed.
You've taken the Body of Christ and let it rest
upon your tongue.
I've taken the train from New York to Denver,
losing my coat along the way.
Everything gets lost in Chicago.
We took his radio up into the attic. You played
Harlequin, and I was a dog-faced Columbine.
When the fire broke out, all the animals
in the menagerie burned to death.
Elephants, whales, lions and crocodiles
roasting alive in lower Manhattan. 1865.
Only Ned, the learned seal, was saved.
By a Brooklyn fireman.
We took his radio up into the attic. We drank
wine and danced around in our underwear.
You've taken the Body of Christ on a train to
Chicago. You've lost the Body of Christ in Chicago.
You played Harlequin, and I was the giraffe
burning alive in Barnum's American Museum.
This early spring sunlight won't stay still.
Keeps crawling through the window. Keeps
fiddling with the dials on the radio.
I left all my camping gear in Denver.
My old LPs. A battered copy of Pensées.
We lost our coat in Chicago. We lost
the early spring sunlight and the radio
and Harlequin in Chicago.
We lost New York in Chicago.
We lost everything.
Only Ned, the learned musical seal, was saved.