The little girl on the plane
Who turned her doll’s head around
To look at me
The last words, scrawled in pencil on a hotel room blotter, of the J. D. Salinger character Seymour Glass, before he committed suicide. His search for the childlike state of connection between mind and universe a failure, in him, in his innocent romantic love, in his imagination.
I ponder this poem on days like today. I wonder if I will leave a poem in a hotel room one day, when the state of being I desire eludes me one too many times?
One more empty kiss
Autumn falling from her eyes
I feel blind to her
Parkstreet
No comments:
Post a Comment