Lawrence Hall HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Petite Bourgeois, Personal, and Self-Indulgent
I used to admire your poetry. I shouldn't admire it now. I
should find it
absurdly personal. Don't you agree? Feelings, insights,
affections...
it's suddenly trivial now.
-Strelnikov to Yuri in Doctor
Zhivago (film)
In the evenings I sit on
my summer lawn
Slouched in an old,
much-painted metal chair
That symbol of petite-bourgeois
respectability
With a little table for my
drink, my pipe, my book
(The cat pads by on
errands of his own)
At dusk a friend or two might
amble along
And join me for a glass, a
smoke, a talk
We casually swat at
mosquitoes and rumors
And argue about Doctor
Zhivago and Lonesome Dove
(A fast-diving mockingbird
mocks the cat)
In a fallen world of chaos
and suffering
With fear of revolution in
the air
Is it right to indulge ourselves
with such trifles
As sitting and talking
with old friends in the twilight?
Oh, yes
(The cat and the
mockingbird continue their game)
