Once I get to heaven
The factor I do know I’ll hear
Is the hissing of the bushes
On a heavenly day in Central Park,
Bushes in a breeze seen from above
On hearth with inexperienced fireworks
Of daylight messing with their hair.Once I’m up there in heaven trying down
I’ll see the treetops of the bushes
Writhing like spaghetti on the boil
And Central Park praying on its knees
To me up right here.
Previous age turns me right into a lobster in boiling water
Screaming for assist silently.On the East Aspect, down one-way Fifth Avenue,
On the West Aspect, up Central Park West,
The police automobiles warble
And the hearth engines toot.
A swan is consuming a giraffe
And the opposite approach round.
It’s the New York sound.Since when did anybody ask the lobster
The way it felt concerning the water getting hotter?
The warming water is meant to numb the lobster.
Not that I discover.
My darkish shell will flip pink
Once I’m edibly lifeless.
That’s not what anybody stated.Police are pouring down Fifth Avenue.
A person apparently has stabbed
To demise a younger Hasidic Jew
Outdoors the doorway to the zoo.
Native information packages are there now, too—
Already repeating endlessly this new
Central Park information which it seems isn’t true.O metropolis infested with scaffolding
That by no means comes down
And botches the buildings it’s meant to save lots of!
O coated pedestrian passageways that remind me
Of my beloved Bologna and its portici!
I lived 5 quarters of my life
Driving my Ducati race bikes close to demise there.At night time I remorse
This and that I did or didn’t in my life
But it surely doesn’t blight delight the best way
Arthritis does.
I used to journey my bikes
On high of witty, fairly ladies.
I nonetheless stalk intercourse at eighty-six.
A Giraffe Consuming a Swan | Frederick Seidel
