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letra de linda & stuart - gabriel kahane

linda and stuart, trapped in their apartment
seventy-ninth and madison, the one they bought
fifty years ago. no fancy lobby, no baroque fresco

the deliverymen, in their light blue surgical masks
knock twice, leave groceries double-bagged at the door
then cross the street back to the shop and to the bas-m-nt below

last week i called and asked, “how’s your relative stock of despair, today?”
linda replied, saying, “gabriel, i know i really shouldn’t complain
but each month this persists is one that we’re not getting back
for we’ve little time left on this spinning marble:
her point of view i can’t dismiss—and what is there to say, in fact?
so i’m left with hollow platitudes to mumble
straining to hear a few bars of the upper east side
i find i’ve not allowed myself, haven’t really had the time
to miss new york, the freak show light

that universe of regret that i keep locked in a wooden box
with all the other thoughts and self-pity
maybe sometime yet i’ll hop a plane and catch a taxi
downtown, just to hear the sound of the old city

sirens and the subway and the slurred words of the shirt-sleeved men
on the town to toast the close of a deal
that shuttered the last factory in every town
in michigan, where the union boys are stone-faced at the wheel

linda tells me she’s taking a writing class
on the art of the short story, and i say, hey that’s great, ’cause
we all need a way to make sense of the world
we all need a way to make sense of the world
we all need a way to make sense of the world

- gabriel kahane

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