Читать книгу Dear Prudence - David Trinidad - Страница 12

MY MAN GODFREY

From this cab, the clouds look like rumpled sheets.

The driver’s accommodating: shuts off

the radio when I ask him to turn it down.

Still raw after last night—laughter lapsing

so suddenly, so deeply into tears.

Where are my bright particulars?

To be brought a breakfast tray and not be forgotten!

Black-and-white seems a sublime frame of mind.