LAST WORD

by John Field

                       Look up there! 

Leaves shining brighter 

Than the artificial lights 

On Broadway’s highest marquees 

October’s theatrical foliage 

Makes little boys leap high 

To shame the earth its stationary ways

It’s visiting hour in my garden 

Roses perfuming the air 

That breezes there—petals 

Wearing so much makeup 

They remind me 

Of the painted cheeks of antique ladies 

Playing bridge and sipping tea

Once I searched for slow beauty 

Of which there can never be a discussion 

To save me from the quick 

Quick years I’d wasted 

And found it hanging in the Louvre 

Then raced off to Santorini 

And all the other grand places 

They recommend in travel books

How quickly time passes 

Traveler turn back Sinatra’s friendly skies 

Cry out to me—nothing’s up here 

That isn’t down there 

Cramped seats jet lag 

Fat chance no thanks

I’d rather wake up in my own bed 

And watch the morning light 

Finger-paint the hills 

As if remembering them by touch 

Then take long walks 

Down dusty country roads 

Earth firm beneath my feet 

Thoughts soft and ripe as fallen fruit: Afterglow

Figs watermelons plums cashews 

A drop of dew 

The new moon’s little skullcap 

Japanese footbridge strawberry patch 

Haut brion and cheval blanc 

Tugboat whistle purple river 

Winter spring summer fall 

Minneapolis Saint Paul

Just to be here for a little while 

Just to be here just to be here 

And then adieu the day I outlive myself 

Because my mind can’t tell the difference 

Between which is the real world 

And which isn’t 

That’s when I’ll pack it in 

And take a trip to kingdom come 

A place they never mention In the travel books 

Where nothing ever ends begins 

Happens or becomes

                   ***