“Why, you’re just a boy with white hair!”
Which made me think of that other
White-haired “boy” writing
A poem about a friend visiting
The rooms of Keats and Shelley,
Who saw “they were just
Boys’ rooms” and was moved
By that.
.
And indeed for the poet,
A poet’s room is a boy’s room
And he supposes women know it—
Perhaps the unbeautiful banker
Is exciting to a woman, a man
Not a boy gasping
For breath over a girl’s body.
.
Perhaps
That is what remains breathless, beautiful
In this in which
Some people never know.
We are lucky in our wise wives, amigo....
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