by David Lehman
I just heard a very fine
piano player described as
the General Motors of jazz
now why didn't I think of that
"but what does it mean?" you
ask who the hell knows the
sunlight's streaming through
the frayed yellowed curtains
in this flat that has grown
dear to me because I was sick
here and recovered as winter
is huffing and puffing its way
into spring the piano is playing
"Mona Lisa" in honor of the
Academy Awards last night I
stayed up for the whole dopey
thing and here's the light
of midday when the phone rings
I say "poetry headquarters"
making Hamilton laugh it's time
piano player described as
the General Motors of jazz
now why didn't I think of that
"but what does it mean?" you
ask who the hell knows the
sunlight's streaming through
the frayed yellowed curtains
in this flat that has grown
dear to me because I was sick
here and recovered as winter
is huffing and puffing its way
into spring the piano is playing
"Mona Lisa" in honor of the
Academy Awards last night I
stayed up for the whole dopey
thing and here's the light
of midday when the phone rings
I say "poetry headquarters"
making Hamilton laugh it's time
About this poem:
This is from a book of David Lehman's called The Daily Mirror: A Journal in Poetry. It's always fun to see if he included one for the day you're living and to see what was going on in his world. It's like peeking through the window of your neighbor's apartment and seeing people moving around or watching t.v. To be honest, this poem doesn't blow me away. The thing that struck me most about it was that the Academy Awards used to be at the end of March. But I like the premise of this book of poetry and you can't be William Shakespeare everyday, no?
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