David Lehman Poems
|4.||The Matador of Metaphor||6/25/2015|
|13.||January 31 (The Sky Is Crumbling...)||1/13/2003|
|17.||To The Author Of Glare||1/13/2003|
|20.||To William Holden||1/13/2003|
|32.||The Shield Of A Greeting||1/13/2003|
|34.||The Left Bank||1/13/2003|
|35.||Shake The Superflux!||1/13/2003|
|39.||Ode To Modern Art||1/13/2003|
When A Woman Loves A Man
When she says Margarita she means Daiquiri.
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."
He's supposed to know that.
When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window...
Light rain is falling in Central Park
but not on Upper Fifth Avenue or Central Park West
where sun and sky are yellow and blue
Winds are gusting on Washington Square
through the arches and on to LaGuardia Place
but calm is the corner of 8th Street and Second Avenue
which reminds me of something John Ashbery said
about his poem "Crazy Weather" he said
he was in favor of all kinds of weather