Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Steve Dalachinsky

Picasso & His Women  (The Waiting)

Picasso on the platform
waiting for the express
waiting /  waiting  / waiting
his shirt    a fragmented bowl of fruit
his hat      a newsprint guitar

“Waiting is such a waste,”  he grumbles
“. . . they will be at the cafe waiting & weeping
     if I am even a little bit late.”

women scream from windows
   shutters flung open   “ POBLECITA  POBLECITA  --
                                               where are you?”
they run out into the street
wring their aprons with their hands
tear at their hair
                             “Pablo. Ay, Pablo. Where can you be?”

“Waiting is such a waste,” he grumbles . . .
“especially when you know you’ve just missed your train.”

their cries grow louder . . . their weeping more defined
their longing all the more shapelessly long
due to the body’s inconstancy

the train arrives at the station
Car #5372 of 12 opens emptily
onto the moist August afternoon

back on the platform Picasso yawns
closes his eyes
& as he leans against a column
a tear
breaks upon his


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