“Boy, this is fine! Love at first sight!’ True love! This is fine!”
Followed by:But then the disillusionment —by God
She turns the same look of those clear kind eyes
On a bootblack, on some fool behind a counter.
She calls that, Love? But what is Love to me?It’s a good question and it weighs more, question mark and all, than the four-exclamation marked line. Maybe disillusionment makes up in deep, lengthy, depth for all that happiness offers in a staccato burst of height?
I love Ronald Wallace’s descriptions in his fine poem, “Canzone: Egrets.” It’s about Ponce de Leon and Florida. Wallace reflects on all that Ponce de Leon hoped to find and all that he did find: “swampland, unreclaimable water” or was there consolation:
“Or did all these mythical creatures, cormorants and egrets,
spoonbills and armadillos, great blue herons and water
moccasins, make it all finally worthwhile, his watered-
down dreams and expectations still more than the usual cycle
of disillusionment, that small pulse in the universal cycle
Bookish, tea-drinking cat-lady who loves great poetry View all posts by Gubbinal