Glaser, Elton

English

The Open Repository @Binghamton (The ORB)

Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal Volume 9 Issue 1 Article 18 June 2009 Seven Strolls Without a Map Elton Glaser Follow this and additional works at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate Recommended Citation Glaser, Elton (2009) "Seven Strolls Without a Map," Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal: Vol. 9: Iss. 1, Article 18. Available at: https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol9/iss1/18 This Poetry is brought to you for free and open access by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). It has been accepted for inclusion in Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal by an authorized editor of The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB). For more information, please contact ORB@binghamton.edu. EVEN STROLLS WITHOUT A MAP Elcon Glaser As a man walks he creates the road he walks on. -Louis Simpson 1 One foot inco the future, and I'm our On the streets, in the city of a hundred congues. I know what language they speak in chis quarter f doormen idling under the canopies And jasperware looking down from the china hutch And hildren, in their new Monee pajamas, Muffing their prayers beside the bed, Far from char avenue of roller blades and guacamole, "Where women in blue bandanas lean out the windows, laughing, Wac hing my awkward walk, as if I'd j use u.ffered a coup d'etat in the nuts. 2 I take my bearings By a mall dog at a lamppost And faccor in the breeze. Over here, the bell cower and the bingo game, Afternoon confe sions in the cool dark. And over there, by the Cadillacs, The hush of a funeral home, the corpse inside Banked by lilies and loved ones, looking Life- ize even in death. Everything' a my cery If you rand coo close co ic. 88 1Glaser: Seven Strolls Without a MapPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2009ELTON GLASER 3 At that corner where I once heard The teenage harmonies Tie ilk knot in a tune, I lo e myself among A dozen rapper all reciting at once, serial poets With the blood of language on their hands, squeezing the oxygen From che public air. I make my way around them, Following my own lines, always One pace behind che gorgeous, one seep ahead of che raw, Like Rimbaud talking crash with the seraphim. 4 Twilight of gnacs in the ly alleys. Ir's getting lace For the old guy elbow-deep in the gadget bins, Clo ing time for the lowpokes at the haberdasher's And couri c fingering each souvenir, asking their wives How much i chat in euro . I ee my elf in the place glass, head propped up On a pyramid of aspirin, or one more dummy Among the cocktail gowns and sconed accessories. Anonymou . Bait and switch. Off-the-rack hairshircs Going for next co nothing From the trunk of a bottomed-out Impala. 5 Debri of picnics across the park: Chicken bones dangle in the dwarf azaleas; napkins Gho c the gras . Why hould we worry about nature, After all he' done co us? I pass the diners and the dim cafes, Kitchens of Little Armenia, the hash houses 89 2Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 9, Iss. 1 [2009], Art. 18https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol9/iss1/18HARPUR PALATE And the chop joints, where grifcers it be ide the gumshoes at a greasy counter And take the daily special, whatever it is, And put down a two-dollar tip For the wa.itres with red hands and a sour smile. What hunger can the body fill? Why hould I give in to appetite, After all it's done to me? 6 omewhere the un sinks on top of itself In a leek ea. omewhere a prom queen lips from her garter A Aa k of Four Ro es, a nip and a ruck Before the blackout of oracular sex in the back seat. Even three blocks away, I can sense A bridegroom niffing the pillows for brilliantine, And those elf-basting boys lonely enough to Change their names in a chat room-Love that lingers and love that comes to harm. 7 By what radar have I arrived At the end of the dead end, In a broken neighborhood, the moon so bright I could count every wrinkle on a crone? The last hou e leans against the wind, A gutsprung tatter of hadows, the walls lick with nightsweat, And mice breeding in the baby grand. 90 3Glaser: Seven Strolls Without a MapPublished by The Open Repository @ Binghamton (The ORB), 2009I'd need a fire hose To clear it all out. Or a purifying flame. But why not, wrong and ornery, Call it home and live like a spider In the low dust of every room, Beyond reach, on the other side of silence -Right there, Where I always wanted co be. ELTON GLASER 91 4Harpur Palate: a Literary Journal, Vol. 9, Iss. 1 [2009], Art. 18https://orb.binghamton.edu/harpurpalate/vol9/iss1/18

Seven Strolls Without a Map

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Seven Strolls Without a Map

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