Wednesday, August 28, 2013

"best of" poem of the day 08.28.13

drinking with paul auster at rudy’s

in the bar in hell’s kitchen
we are tired from walking fifty blocks
and tired of the bullshit of manhattan

we have beers and just sit there

the television set is on to football
and the jukebox is playing rap

hell, i say

i remember when this bar
had a small tv on a chain stand

and only blues and latin music
came out of that thing

now they are selling
t-shirts for the bar too

that was only three years ago

then we drink again and have
another round

next to us he is wearing a raincoat
and he has an umbrella though it isn’t raining

he’s got the well-oiled black hair
and the big, lost writerly eyes

i think that’s paul auster,” i tell my wife
we’re drinking with paul auster

auster looks like the back
of one of his book jackets

as he sits with a paperback novel
a vodka and lime
and the penn state game on espn

he looks like everyone else
trying to put one over on life,
feigning at being something better

then he finishes his drink and gets up to leave

it is bright and blue in new york city
but paul auster twirls his umbrella
and makes up 9th avenue anyway

are you sure that’s paul auster?
my wife asks

no, i say.
but why shouldn’t it be him.

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