In a Beautiful Country
from Poetry (October 2009)
A good way to fall in love
is to turn off the headlights
and drive very fast down dark roads.
Another way to fall in love
is to say they are only mints
and swallow them with a strong drink.
Then it is autumn in the body.
Your hands are cold.
Then it is winter and we are still at war.
The gold-haired girl is singing into your ear
about how we live in a beautiful country.
Snow sifts from the clouds
into your drink. It doesn’t matter about the war.
A good way to fall in love
is to close up the garage and turn the engine on,
then down you’ll fall through lovely mists
as a body might fall early one morning
from a high window into love. Love,
the broken glass. Love, the scissors
and the water basin. A good way to fall
is with a rope to catch you.
A good way is something to drink
to help you march forward.
The gold-haired girl says, Don't worry
about the armies, says, We live in a time
full of love. You're thinking about this too much.
Slow down. Nothing bad will happen.
from Poetry (October 2009)
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I remember from college days asking a friend if she understood why there was this sort of standardized comparison in literature – like an accepted, established equation – between love and death. My friend said yes, the connection seemed obvious to her but she couldn't explain it. I was reading novelists like Mishima and Thomas Mann, who seemed to be trying to explain it. But I couldn't understand it. I was too young – too young and too much of a hippie.