(............31aug) Stamps

My favorite one, from Italy,
showed a woman
with a whole, walled city
atop her head.

Then there were the triangles:
Finnish bicycle racers,
Angolan cheetahs with gleaming eyes,
Croatian birds — how I loved
to whisper that word, 'Croatia'!

The Russians, too, had bike racers,
leaning intensely forward,
and many men
with long, white beards.

I learned strange words
like 'Magyar' and 'Norge',
same as the brand
of refrigerators
Dad sold at his store,

and Espana, the lovely
name of a place whose stamps
were mostly filled up
with the big head
of a man named Franco,
of which I had red, orange,
brown and violet versions,
some cancelled, some brand new.

And Hitler. Grandpa made
me cross his picture out
in all the stamps of him
with Deutsches-Reich at the bottom,
but not the small, square ones
of grey, round-faced
general von Hindenburg.

Stamps were an absolute
democracy, the tiny
republic of San Marino
equal to the great
United States.

And the Cape of Good Hope,
the Cape of Good Hope!
I learned of it from a stamp,
and still hope to round it some day.

Once, a distant cousin
in the diplomatic corps
wrote to us from Tanganyika.
Mother helped me steam
the orange stamp off
after she'd read the note..
I felt I'd been given
a piece of the land itself.

I wrote the President of Pakistan,
asking whether the capital
was Lahore or Rawalpindi,
and I swear, he wrote me back
in his own hand, 'Rawalpindi',

and Kwame Nkruma, father
of the new country, Ghana,
I wrote him too,
feeling indignant
when he never replied.

The world seemed simpler then.
Oh God, I want that world!

Max Reif

http://www.poemhunter.com/