forrest anderson

tonight

onight and tomorrow

for us the ears and eyes compile a momentary list

and catalog of sensibilities to pass in tree-arcaded park: a fishingboat comes in all elegant with colored lamps

a small, whitehatted figure turning off in moonburned path empty quartbottles standing by the soiled bathtub

a sleeping floosie lolling halfout her awry-spotted bed

in us the consciousness piles up in another undertow dread of disaster in some invitational false smile experience abjures, the brimming gland conjures always the hope of finding our true "other half” by lastnight's flight, going overboard again—almost and forever the decisions to be made: whether to go

or stay and try to face it out. money's the umpire already prejudiced in an unequal fight

catlike seamen crawling back to their drab rooms

lovers clasping furiously in rose-neon dance of clowns

blue tensions mounting... then gone lax ... some man in port at last

in woman's grace

from us the fears and phobias now drop away and all at once

when you say goodnight (which means "goodbye"), write a few letters,

pack up. go inmorning downwaterside again. and another ship will take you out.

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