Help Me If You Can (Beatles, Grand Central, Bombay Mix) Poem by Frank Bana

Help Me If You Can (Beatles, Grand Central, Bombay Mix)



'Can I help anyone? '
Voice thin and high, Asian-inflected
Female, hints of softness and suggestion.
'Can I....? '

Hid in shelves of poetry, journals
birds of Scotland, lesbian, gendered, jazz, New England
school house quarterlies

Unaffected where it matters, I don't look to her
Semi-resigned, someone will surely take her up
on it. Oh, she can't be serious

I pass on through
the Cheez-its and the Cheerios
the weeklies and the daily rags
dripping inky off the shelves

And step out, on my perfect guard
into the criss-cross hordes, how they
avoid collision, by
miraculous geometry

save for the woman, hurrying
who calls me 'Jesus Christ'
and not in unaccusatory terms!

Moving by stealth once more
intact in my intent to glimpse her face
but she's behind me now

Then some old Bowie song
passes its fingertips over my brow
and presses on the ache behind my eyes
'Why didn't I say, why didn't I say...'

The clutter and the trivia, ephemera of the store
and of my thoughts, the junkyard of my soul
the worn-out clothes, the gems, the Bombay mix

And she will still repeat, unvarying, note-true
The chorus of her storefront studio
'Can I help anyone...? '

Anyone? you mean?
Oh yes, you may...
please help me if you can....
I'm sure there'll be some way to help you too.

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