WAITING FOR LUIGI.

A woman in 1929 waits for man friends to ring her after she hears of the Wall Street crash.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luigi keeps you waiting,
He always does, looks upon
You as his bit on the side,

 

The dame who’d come round
When he wanted, when he
Called or when he turned up,

 

And you hear on the radio
About the Wall Street crash,
And sitting in the armchair

 

You wonder if he’s going to
Call, but he hasn’t, and you
Begin to speculate if he will,

 

That maybe he’ s otherwise
Engaged at that moment, that
Other schmucks might be with

 

Him taking up his time and
Passion, worrying about their
Money and shares, and how

 

Their businesses are going to
Go or if it’s going to pull a
Few rugs from beneath a few

 

Butts and Luigi’s amongst them,
And sighing, you wonder where
You come in all this, whether

 

You’ll be still kept in this small
Apartment or whether you’ll be
Out on your ear and on your a*s

 

And back where you were when
He found you and picked you up
And dusted you off and set you

 

Up where he could find you and
Have you when he wanted and
He likes to have a dame on his

 

Arm, and a pretty dame too, and
At this moment, you are probably,
You think, one of the prettiest,

 

At least that’s what you believe,
And why not, if you don’t believe
In yourself, your old lady says,

 

Who’s going to buy into you or
Your dream and keep you on the
Sweet life and save you from

 

Drowning in the cesspit of the
City, and so you wait, sitting
There feeling quite sexy, at this

 

Time, wanting Luigi to call,
Wanting him so say, I’ll be right
Over Baby, get yourself all hot

 

And brightened up and ready for
Luigi for your lover man cometh,
And that laugh of his echoes loudly

 

Through your head and heart and
Plucks at your strings, and you
Being bright and alive, like a skylark

 

Sings, or so you’ve heard, and yes,
You want, at this moment in your
Life, to be just like that darn bird.

Reviews

[just rose.]

This for me expresses how everything and everyone are connected. The things we take for granted and expect are predicated on other things, from starting a car to the radio telling us when the Stock Market's bottom has fallen out like a greasy paper bag from a Chinese take-away when the won ton's spilled. And those we depend on to support us get distracted and taken away, too, so that when that one thing shifts, when that butterfly flys right instead of left in the Amazon ... we have to bring into question everything that we are and might be. And sitting around frozen waiting for the ring, while trying to find a way to transcend all that. It's all so familiar. We long to soar beyond it all, but forget, sometimes, how everything is cyclical, and how when all you exist for is to be someone's diversion, there's not much life in that -- the shattering realization that birds, too, have to land and, on their own, find a bit of bread.

[aftervision]

this is a wonderful poem - the people seem to have a face and a soul