名人诗歌|The Black Riviera

There they are again. It's after dark.

The rain begins its sober comedy，

Slicking down their hair as they wait

Under a pepper tree or eucalyptus^1，

Larry Dietz， Luis Gonzalez， the Fitzgerald brothers，

And Jarman， hidden from the cop car

Sleeking^{2 innocently past. Stoned，}

They giggle^{3 a little， with money ready}

To pay for more， waiting in the rain.

They buy from the black Riviera

That silently appears， as if risen，

The apotheosis^{4 of wet asphalt}

And smeary-silvery glare

And plush inner untouchability.

A hand takes money and withdraws，

Another extends a plastic sack

Short， too dramatic to be questioned.

What they buy is light rolled in a wave.

They send the money off in a long car

A god himself could steal a girl in，

Clothing its metal sheen in the spectrum⁵

Of bars and discosplay and restaurants.

And they are left， dripping rain

Under their melancholy^{6 tree， and see time}

Knocked akilter， sort of funny，

But slowing down strangely， too.

So， what do they dream？

They might dream that they are in love

And wake to find they are，

That outside their own pumping arteries^7，

Which they can cargo^{8 with happiness}

As they sink in their little bathyspheres，

Somebody else's body pressures theirs

With kisses， like bursts of bloody^{9 oxygen，}

Until， stunned^{10， they're dragged up，}

Drawn^{11 from drowning， saved.}

In fact， some of us woke up that way.

It has to do with how desire takes shape.

Tapered^{12， encapsulated， engineered}

To navigate^{13 an illusion of deep water，}

Its beauty has the dark roots

Of a girl skipping down a high-school corridor

Selling Seconal from a bag，

Or a black car gliding^{14 close to the roadTOP，}

So insular^{15， so quiet， it enters the earth.}