For the Beautiful Woman Across the Room

Louis McKee

In a time of Revolution for instance
I could have fucked her"
–Lawrence Ferlinghetti

In another time, in another place,
I could have gotten her
attention, could have wooed her
with my allegiances, my afffectations,
recited to her a poem
laden with revolution and romance,
one I drew just for her–her lovely eyes
and wonderful long hair–from the heart,
from Brautigan, or from Ferlinghetti.
There was a time and a place
where beautiful people walked
with the rest of us. We all carried signs,
wore buttons, and damned things
that made no sense. We stood together
in crowds, sang the same songs.
They couldn’t tell us
apart, the radicals and angels,
and when they gassed us they gassed us all.
The night we took over
the offices in College Hall, after
the commotion died down, and even
the public defiance squad parked across the street
was nodding off over cold coffee,
I was stoned enough on the events of the day
that I sprawled out next to the prettiest girl
on campus and used her
blanket against the cold tile floor,
but kept my distance, that few
tremendous inches between our bodies,
and stayed there for hours, my breath
stretching to reach the hairs at her neck,
waiting for her to turn, to change
positions, to join the revolution.

***

Sent by a retro-hippie caller who just tickles my pink.  And he knows it.

McKee at Wikipedia

An interview with Louis Mckee

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