The Mystery and Melancholy of the Street
Piano in Melanesian Pidgin is big black box with teeth,
you hit him, he cry. Must take forever to reach the end
of the sentence in Pago Pago. And why is Pago Pago
pronounced Pango Pango, like it rhymes with tango?
Where did that n go? If it's true the tango was invented
in Argentina a century ago, why's their economy
such a mess today and when will the Mothers
of the Plaza de Mayo get justice? All over the world
women are named for what blooms—Daisy, Iris,
Dahlia, Lily, Rose—but no man is named for a flower,
which explains a lot about human history. Lady Day
always wore a white gardenia in her hair, even though
she wasn't allowed up the elevator with white folk.
The Infanta of Castille may be the answer to the conundrum
of London's tube stop, Elephant and Castle, whose origin
otherwise-like ours-is an enigma, a vortex of mystery
that must perplex even the most jaded urban commuter.
I know it does me, these mornings when a humid breeze
bodes another scorcher in the City of Brotherly Love.
Wasn't Poor Richard lucky not to get himself electrocuted
flying his kites into those lightning storms, so later
he could have all his amorous escapades in Paris? A bad
bounce last night caromed me into the Emergency Room
with a busted clavicle. No sweat, you'll be shooting hoops
again in no time the intern opined, pulling her figure-
of-eight brace taut against my chest. But who can hear
the word hoops without immediately seeing that little blond girl
rolling her hoop up the ochre umber burnt sienna street
in Giorgio di Chirico's famous painting that portends
the rise of fascism in Italy according to art historians
because the scene is a rigid geometry of arc and angle
and her face is unseen, and though she seems carefree
in the Tuscan sun, she's rolling her big innocent hoop
into the looming shade.
Copyright © Roy Jacobstein All rights reserved
Indiana Review, 2004
LITERATURE: Reading Fiction, Poetry and Drama
(DiYanni, R., ed., Mc-Graw-Hill, 2006)
Campbell Corner Featured Poem, 2007