Friday, 19 December 2008

  • Share ko lang.

     
    Nighthawks
    After Edward Hopper's Painting      
     
    Wolf Wondratschek
     
     
    It is night
    and the city is deserted.
    The lucky ones are at home,
    or more likely
    there are none left.
     
    In Hopper's painting, four people remain
    the usual cast, so-to-speak:
    the man behind the counter, two men and a woman.
    Art lovers, you can stone me
    but I know this situation pretty well.
     
    Two men and one woman
    as if this were mere chance.
    You admire the painting's composition
    but what grabs me is the erotic pleasure
    of complete emptiness.
     
    They don't say a word, and why should they?
    Both of them smoking, but there is no smoke.
    I bet she wrote him a letter.
    whatever it said, he's no longer the man
    who'd read her letters twice.
     
    The radio is broken.
    The air conditioner hums.
    I hear a police siren wail.
    Two blocks away in a doorway, a junkie groans
    and sticks a needle in his vein.
    That's how the part you don't see looks.
     
    The other man is by himself
    remembering a woman,
    she wore a red dress, too.
    That was ages ago.
    He likes knowing women like this still exist
    but he's no longer interested.
     
    What might have been
    between them, back then?
    I bet he wanted her.
    I bet she said no.
     
    No wonder, art lovers,
    that this man is turning his back on you.

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