I have longed to move away
From the hissing of the spent lie
And the old terrors' continual cry
Growing more terrible as the day
Goes over the hill into the deep sea;
I have longed to move away
From the repetition of salutes,
For there are ghosts in the air
And ghostly echoes on paper,
And the thunder of calls and notes.
I have longed to move away but am afraid;
Some life, yet unspent, might explode
Out of the old lie burning on the ground,
And, crackling into the air, leave me half-blind.
Neither by night's ancient fear,
The parting of hat from hair,
Pursed lips at the receiver,
Shall I fall to death's feather.
By these I would not care to die,
Half convention and half lie.
*****
I once had a friend who subjected himself to experimental dentists, anything to preserve his teeth. And the truth is whenever I think of him I think of his wonderful smile and his teeth which were on their way to perfection, and I loved the crookedness of them. Now don't laugh, but truly this is about his character and his charm.
He was afraid to move away and I have been and am afraid to move away. The last time I moved away, I kept this poem on my refrigerator. And I moved and got unexpectedly homesick for LA. When I flew across the country and I looked down and began to see the ground, the high mountains, the smog layer, I would cry. I have a love hate relationship with Los Angeles. I dream of escaping it. But who gets to escape twice?
