morning observation #49
after a night of Thin Man games (I’ll take
5 more – line them up right here!), I’ve discovered
that mornings aren’t so witty when you don’t
own a proper dressing gown
and I am, in fact, not Nora (or Myrna)
my mouth too dry for a pithy
retort, my mouth too dry
to say pithy
5 more – line them up right here!), I’ve discovered
that mornings aren’t so witty when you don’t
own a proper dressing gown
and I am, in fact, not Nora (or Myrna)
my mouth too dry for a pithy
retort, my mouth too dry
to say pithy
posted by kathleen olmstead at 10:08 AM
3 Comments:
Ha! Pithy. Good. I like it.
It's funny though, how a poem shining a light on the "morning after" reality of the glamor of Thin Man style decadence, still manages to make us want to try to be Nora, or Nick, or even Asta fer chris'sakes. We still suspend our disbelief / we still wake up with broken blood vessels in our eye sockets.
"oh Nicky... you're bleeding..."
I love this poem. It may sound trite, but thank you -for sharing these beautiful words. Thoughtful, evocative, and, well, okay, downright pithy. Who would've thought the interweb would be the perfect venue for something as old fashioned as poetry?
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