To Lindsay
Vachel, the stars are out / dusk has fallen on the Colorado road / a car crawls slowly across the plain / in the dim light the radio blares its jazz / the heartbroken salesman lights another cigarette / In another city 27 years ago / I see your shadow on the wall / you’re sitting in your suspenders on the bed / the shadow hand lifts up a Lysol bottle to your head / your shade falls over on the floor
[Paris, May 1958]
