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letra de portrait of a lady interlude - lola murphy

[spoken-word]
the october night comes down; returning as before
except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
i mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
and feel as if i had mounted on my hands and knees
‘and so you are going abroad; and when do you return?
but that’s a useless question
you hardly know when you are coming back
you will find so much to learn.’
my smile falls heavily among the bric-à-brac

‘perhaps you can write to me.’
my self-possession flares up for a second;
this is as i had reckoned
‘i have been wondering frequently of late
why we have not developed into friends.’
i feel like one who smiles, and turning shall remark
suddenly, his expression in a glass
my self-possession gutters; we are really in the dark

‘for everybody said so, all our friends
they all were sure our feelings would relate
so closely! i myself can hardly understand
we must leave it now to fate
you will write, at any rate
perhaps it is not too late
i shall sit here, serving tea to friends.’
and i must borrow every changing shape
to find expression … dance, dance
like a dancing bear
cry like a parrot, chatter like an ape
let us take the air, in a tobacco trance —

well! and what if she should die some afternoon
afternoon grey and smoky, evening yellow and rose;
should die and leave me sitting pen in hand
with the smoke coming down above the housetops;
doubtful, for a while
not knowing what to feel or if i understand
or whether wise or foolish, tardy or too soon …
would she not have the advantage, after all?
this music is successful with a ‘dying fall’
now that we talk of dying —
and should i have the right to smile?

- lola murphy

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