Often I have a song stuck in my head, but sometimes something will trigger the memory of a poem. That happened to me today, a random phrase caught my ear and next thing I knew I was trying to remember all of a poem from my college poetry textbook. Trouble is, I can't find the book. Thank God for the Internet...I'll be able to sleep tonight.
There were not that many Google hits, though. (Interestingly, two hits were pages from English classes, one is a page by a dominatrix. I'm glad I didn't do the search at the office.) There should be more. So unless Peter Williams asks me to stop violating copyrights and take it down, here's the poem stuck in my head today:
When She Was Here, Li Bo, She Was Like Cold Summer Lager
Her presence was a roomful of flowers,
Her absence is an empty bed.
--Li Bo (701-762)
When she was here, Li Bo, she was like cold summer lager,
Like hot pastrami at Katz's on Houston Street,
Like a bright nickname on my downtown express,
Like very custardy honey from the old art books:
She was quadraphonic Mahler
And the perfect little gymnast.
Now she's gone, it's like flat Coke on Sunday morning,
Like melted Velveeta on white, eaten
Listening to Bobby Vinton--
Like the Philadelphia Eagles.