It’s really quite a thrill
Walks in the park are enjoyed.
Quite a thrill too to bend objects
Got to drone now.
A little tea with that?
I saw her wailing for some animals.
The midnight forest drags you along, thousands of peach hectares. Told him I wouldn’t do it if I was him. Nothing to halt the chatter of locusts until they’re put away for the night. He edges closer to your locker. Why did I leave it open? I’ve forgotten the combination. But it seems he’s not interested in the locker, maybe my shoe—something unlike anything he’s ever known. Sensing the tension he broke the ice with a quip about the weather somewhere, or maybe—maybe an observation on time, how it moves vastly in different channels, always keeping up with itself, until the day—I’m going to drive back to the office, a fellowship of miles, collect some of last year’s ammunition. Then I’m definitely going to the country, he laughs.
- from Where Shall I Wander, included in Notes from the Air: Selected Later Poems. Copyright © 2005, 2007 by John Ashbery. All rights reserved. Used by permission of Georges Borchardt, Inc. for the author.