Pittsfield aria to myself on a Saturday afternoon

along North Street cascading light its vestiges fading eagle head of my cane poised against the mailbox eagle The Eagle a building posing opiod optics no one seen no one heard vacant lot the tottering totem swaying was that a needle in her hand a long train a-comin' a tall train a-goin' I went down to the station walked The Common the old high school how about that gazebo mother father child reunion flag-draped baby Lake Pond Silver streets Bank Row alley in the shadow Crawford Square the Marketplace wear your mask I'm masked and anonymous why aren't you where was Melville when he wrote Moby Dick here Lolita by the pool her back to me unknown unbeknownst to one and all hibiscus hideaway the tenement testament still standing for all to see beware of the dog private property keep out or is it keep in I can't tell anymore can you

St. Inquisitive

I could have, couldn’t I? I wish I had. Why didn’t I? What was I thinking? (Before you go there, neuroscientists long ago demonstrated no difference between thinking and feeling.) Having gone that far, having done such doings, said such words, I could have hit the brakes, paused, slowed down, or — gasp! — come to a stop, sure, a rolling stop, the kind cops give tickets for, but a stop nevertheless, even if the word and the action were adorned in demurring, qualifying quotation marks, in Helvetica bold ital. Or a complete stop. Stop right there. On the other hand, in the other brain hemisphere, what if I couldn’t have? Given who I was then, the accumulated detritus and virtue coursing through my blood making me who I was in that time and place, who is to say those parameters allowed any choice whatsoever? With that notion percolating, go back, rewind the tape, as in the days of reel-to-reel tape recorders, and record again, record over the first take, what we now call overwrite or reboot in computer parlance, and say, “I couldn’t have, couldn’t I?” And the absurdly laughable Samuel Beckettish logic-and-illogic shotgun marriage of it all says, What’s the difference? Tell me, tell them, tell us the difference between could and couldn’t, between did and didn’t. I fail to fathom, plumb or plunder, any real or imagined difference. You vehemently shout: Of course, it makes a difference, it makes all the difference in the world, your world. Says you. I’m not playing with belly-button lint here. I’m not semantically self-abusing here (to use the lusciously lubricious term the Roman Catholic pre-Confession Examen of Conscience employed in the days of my seminary youth, etymological pun intended. Is there anything more oxymoronic than “self-abuse” as a term applied to self-administered pleasure? Can any two fused words say more about a generation? It is LOVL [laugh out very loud] now but not then, when we needed a St. Portnoy to save us). But I digress, and not because of perfume from a dress, Mr. Prufrock. Or do I digress? This metaphysical monologue, this diction-ated debate, on could vs. couldn’t is no dodge, no escape from responsibility. It’s an honest question twinned in pain and peril: Could I have gone another way? Could I not have gone another way? With or without the “not,” it’s the same question. Alas, after all this, after every self-administered midnight polygraph exam, after infinite Torquemada auto-interrogations on rack and ruin, I am finally brave enough to cry, Tighten the screws, have at it, boiling oil and all, ask it from every angle and in every tone of voice! 

I can’t for the life of me answer Yes or No.

And I blithely shout, It doesn’t matter.

hackronyms

sorry, excuse me

no, you're fine

yeah, no

you're good

thanks, yeah, thank you

you're fine

sorry, no, I thought . . .

no, yeah, you're good

appreciate that

like, why wouldn't you be good?

yeah, no

it's all good, life is good

I hear ya

so . . .

"fine"

so fine; there was a song

before my time

c'mon, you've heard it, catchy

"doo-lang, doo-lang"

that's it!

"he's so fine"

the Chiffons

yes! yes!

sexy

catchy

so fine

FINE

hunh?

frustrated insecure needy enraged

hunh, what?

F-I-N-E

oh, I get it, clever

like fucked-up insolvent neurotic effete

two can play this game

fine

fraudulent intolerant nasty excoriating

oooh

friendly innocent naive enthusiastic

pshaw

no, yeah

yeah, no

yeah

yeah

yeah, yeah, yeah

excelsior

what floor you get off?

excuse me?

4, hit 4

2, let me out at 2

you can't walk that?

where do you get off?

that's my business

hey let me out, hold the door

too late

really? I told you 2

sorry

no, youi're not

4, I'm getting out at 4

we heard you the first time

everybody heard 2 but what good did that do?

I know, right?

you people

it's not like it's your elevator

4, hold the door

too late

are you shittin' me?

let's go up to 7, I've never been up there

you know, you'ree fuckn crazy, there is no 7

who says?

who says?!

reality says

what's reality?

stop! don't start with that crazy shit, just let me off! anywhere!

me too, stop!

stop it yourself

we will, we have, we did

where you get off? what floor?

who? me? none of your business

I can't get the door to open

this is hell

purgatory at best

call the super

I am the super

let me out

yeah, let me out

let us out

feed my lambs

did you feed the kids

what kids

our kids

as in goats kids

no, silly

oh, those kids

yes, those kids

but, they're all grown.

they are

since when

since they were emancipated, and not by proclamation, either

i do declare, a declaration not a proclamation

yes, you do declare

so they feed themselves

on a good day, yes

what do they feed themselves

depends

on what

they forage

you don't say

I do say, proclaim, and declare

they forage, rummage, hunt, and ferret out

but is it organic?

there's nothing more organic

you don't say

I do, redux

I took Latin, too

I took Latin 3 and Latin 4

Well, veni, vidi, vici to you

Amen

That's not Latin

What is it

I dunno, Hebrew. Maybe Aramaic.

Ain't you a smarty pants!

Amen.

I'm going back to sleep.

Did you feed the kids?

the static

like, you know; turn the dials on the Hallicrafters short-wave radio like safecrackers; dive bombers; know what I'm sayin; shrill metallic blast; gurgling high-pitched twirling; ya know; crackling hum; intergalactic buzzsaw; in my opinion; galvanic thrumming; Radio Moscow; I know, right; shockwave echoing; lol; electronic pulsating stammering; shrill feedback; ear-splitting waterfallish avalanche; Vatican Radio; yeah, no; tin stuttering; galloping burping; infinite clanging; Radio Nederland Hilversum; LOL; yeah, no, I know, right; BBC World Service; wave-rippling cool giggling trickle; broken-muffler mauling; know what I mean; sandy sandpaperish sifting; harsh endless high-volume whispering; like; right