Greg Clary
New York City, August 7, 1974
We were new at this grown-up stuff.
Me reading your beat poets and
you listening to my Gram Parsons
in the faint light of a dripping candle
stuck into a Mateus Rose’ bottle.
Dawn brought this headline:
“Nixon Will Resign!”
And the view of a daring Frenchman
walking a tightrope between the Twin Towers.
We stared out your pocket
Battery Park window as Gram sang about
being a do right all night man if
you want a do right all night woman
We descended into each other
while you recited Brautigan:
“Someday Time will die, and Love will bury it.’
We believed it.
We thought that’s how it would go.
But, no. We had it backward:
Someday Love will die, and Time will bury it.
Greg Clary, Trailer Park Quarterly, Vol. 12.