Let us go then, you and
I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a tourist sunburned upon the beach;
Let us go through revelling streets,
The intoxicated feats
Of hedonists in expensive resorts
and fast food chains cloaked in styrofoam:
Streets that follow like a smiling sales pitch
(Always reading the fine print)
To lead to an overwhelming question. . .
Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.
In the bars the women
come and go
Talking of Tupelo.
The orange sun that rubs its back upon the Gulf,
The orange reflection that rubs its reins upon the Gulf
Licks its tongue into the corners of every hotel,
Motel and trailer court,
Lingers upon the pools and the hot tubs,
Lets fall upon its back pelicans and seagulls
Gliding from the mangroves,
Slips by the tiki huts, makes a sudden green glow,
And seeing it is a hot July night,
Scorches one last tourist, and goes to Arizona.
And indeed there will be time
For the flowered bikinis that slink along the strand,
Rubbing languid thighs
Across plastic barstools;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face
To meet the faces that one meets;
There will be time to drink and to romance,
Time to intertwine arms and legs and lips
And leave a healthy tip beneath the glass:
Time for you and time for me,
Time for a hundred observations,
And for a hundred lovely visions,
And I pray revisions,
Before the taking of a frozen margarita.
In the bars the women come and go
Talking of Tupelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Have I been fair? and "Have I been fair?"
Time to turn and ascend the stair,
with a condom in my pocket--
"They will say, "How his diet has made him slim!)
My island shirt, my gold chains
Lying casually beneath my chin,
My Rolex, rich and flashy,
Asserted when I tip the waitress with a fin--
(They will say: But how he looks so trim!)
Yes, I dare!
I have disturbed the universe!
In a minute there is time
For a hundred lovely visions
For which, every minute, I can rehearse.
For I have not known them all yet,
Not known them all in evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I measure out my life with courtesy cups;
I know the voices frolicking with rollicking laughter
In the back bar.
So How shall I consume?
I have known their eyes already, known them all--
Eyes that devour you with a euphoric glint,
And when I am drunk, sprawling on the floor,
Writhing beneath a barmaid,
Then how shall I continue
To expectorate the dogmas of these days and ways?
Yes, how shall I continue?
And I have known Colt Arms already, known them all--
Arms that are smuggled or legal
(But under lamplight, always there).
Is it coconut oil on an ebony tan
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lay upon a table
or settle a fishermen's brawl.
And should I then continue to consume?
And how should I consume?
I shall say I have gone at dusk
Off the coast to a sunken ship filled with gold doubloons
And watched the divers rise,
Only men, yet clutching gold,
Elbows akimbo.
I could have gone to Georgia Tech
Or collected eternal kickbacks and fees.
And the afternoon, the evening, sizzles so erotically!
Caressed by long fingers,
Lazy. . . awakening. . . avoiding the rays' stingers,
Stretched out on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after champagne and lobster and Italian ice,
Turn the conversation to their price?
Though I have binged and dieted, gorged and drank,
Though I have seen my swim trunks brought in from the
Cleaners,
I know we are great seamen
And I know that it matters
For I have seen the eternal flicker of my gold card's flame,
And in short, everything's paid for.
I know that it's all worth it,
After the shots and beers, the lobster and the shrimp.
Yes! It's all worth it!
I have nibbled a barmaid's earlobe with a smile,
I have squeezed her gently in my hands
And heard her happyy laughter
Rolling toward the overwhelming question--
"Do you love me?"
I say, I am come back from the dead,
Come back to tell you, to tell you all.
Yes! I do! I love you!
That is what I meant. That is the sum of it all.
I know that it is worth while after all,
After the sunsets, and the tiki bars and the languid
streets,
After the annual reports, after the appetizers,
After the bikinis that slink along the beach--
This and so much more!
Is it possible to say all that I mean?
If only a film could be projected from my mind
And another from hers.
It is worth while
When one settling a pillow by her head
And throwing off her bikini
Turns toward me and says,
"I'm glad you called.
I'm glad you called!"
Yes! This is a small hamlet
And was meant to be only a burg.
I sometimes drive a Chevy, other times a Ford.
I swell at progress, star in a scene or two,
Advise the bartender in the use of his tools
(Differential calculus we learned in school)
Glad to have orange juice;
Polite, raucous, verbose;
Full of ethnic jokes,
A trickster trying to confuse.
I like the ridiculous.
I like to play the fool.
I grow bold! I grow bold!
I shall leave my trousers home!
I shall shave my head, wear a Speedo,
and flirt upon the beach with every Georgia Peach.
I have heard lovely mermaids singing each to each.
When I sing to them, they sing to me.
I see them swimming toward the shore,
Lovely ladies (Ah, sweet beauties in their many forms and
Stages).
We have frolicked beside the Gulf
Until shrill philosophers shrieked,
Desiccated poets shriveled in the sand,
And cheerful barmaidswoke us with their kisses,
And promises of love from head to toes.
In the face of such beauty
We rose,
To seize the day!
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