forwarding addresses

Forwarding address

Ten blocks downtown, it's

Zanzibar:

smugglers and palm trees, ceiling fans,

sunsets that knock you out like a tropical cocktail.

Pasha, parading

today's

gold favorite on your arm,

how your heart swells at the blue

view from the old slave fort!

The morning's parasols

bow down before you,

tearing your blood orange on the cafe terrace

while upstairs in a closet

old postcards

rave in their box like the sea.

Here is Paris, here Seville, and here

at the back oare the chill

polders

clouds full of tears,

starched curtains hiding pale, furious wives

whose potato-faced couriers

are even now setting out to find you.

-Katha Pollitt

***

I love this one -- it's so exotic and it really brings out the flavors of that wondrous place.

Here's my rip-off version, with regrets to Pollitt, with my forwarding address going to Old Towne:

Old Towne address

Eight blocks to Old Towne,

it's the Zanzibar of NoVa:

tomatoes ripening at the farmer's market,

below them, a wolfish nose sniffs my sandaled feet, his owner reassuring, "Petey's really gentle, aren't ya boy?"

View from the fountain -- the bus has come. Dash us to the station!

I munch my coconut shrimp at the Thai place, watching babies cry in plastic-wrapped strollers, the rain drizzling past them.

Gadsby's tavern has it's own beers. Lemony and honey-rich. Is it a cough syrup or a beverage? A bit of both!

Height of heat of summer -- but Cosi's got the stove on high. I can see the flames wave a five-fingered salute while I sip my chai lullabuy. Ahhh -- Sweet warmth in the cool AC.

Run down to the docks, to watch the man playing crystal glasses, "as seen on the Tonight Show," the sign reminds me.

timothy williams (lower caps, please) works his furniture store, blue eyes glittering. He doesn't mind a jogger's fickle flirtation. Flirt 'n' go! Flirt 'n' go! He waves me goodbye.

Misha's is busy Tuesday at 6 a.m. -- the line wraps around the counter. Crash! The jar of coffee beans smashes against the floor.