Classic Frieze in a Garage 

 I was walking thru the city past umber embassies

                & pine-lined palaces

                               fat palms beside balconies

                        the heat something

                                    you could really touch

                                      the kids with cunning

                                          delinquent faces

                                   after americano sailors

             -thinking of nerval tends-moi le pausilippe

                   et la mer d'Italie & living

                           on the hill posillipo under

                a gangster's dancefloor

                                                    among goldfinches

                                          on the bay of naples

                                                   in a stone cottage

                                over tufa caves in which the sea

                                crashed in winter sweet gerard

                                                 one hundred years

                        have made the desolation greater

      the tower is really down & the sun blackened

                      beyond despair the loudspeaker drowns

                               finches cliffs caves

                                       all in the hands of racketeers

         yet i have passed my time dreaming thru this

                               fantastic wreck

 walking thru incendiary alleys of crowded laundry

                               with yellow gourds in windows &

                               crumbling masonry of wars

                                     human corruption

                               so thick and hopeless that i laugh

 when suddenly i saw among the oil & greasy rags

                                & wheels & axles of a garage

                                 the carved nude figures of

                                         a classic frieze

                                 there above the dismantled

                                 parts of cars!

 perfect! & how strange! garage

                swallows sarcophagus!

 mechanic calmly spraying

                     paint on a

                                        fender

 observed in turn by lapith and centaur!

                                                        flow

                            of unthinking flesh!

                                        frank thighs! eyes

                               of aphrodite!

 the myth of the mediterranean

            was in that garage

       where the brown wiry

 youths saw nothing unusual

                    at their work

     among dead heroes & gods

     but i saw hermes in the rainbow

             of the dark oil on the floor

                              reflected there

            & the wild hair of the sybil

                    as her words bubbled

 mad and drowned

                                beneath the motor's roar 

          

         

we sailed into the harbor

all the church bells rang

the main street on the crescent shore

hung iridescent silks from windows

stucco housefronts gleamed

rose, pistachio, peach

and a procession sang

behind a surpliced priest

carrying a burnished Christ

when I set foot on shore

a youth emerged from the crowd

barefoot and olive-skinned

and we climbed up rocky slopes

till dusk fell and close to the moon

at the mouth of a cave we made love

as the sea broke wild beneath the cliff 

           

 let the age hang itself! we've had

 four marvelous days together

        no news reports only music

                & no serious discussions

         

 plenty of wine the best

 from the islands

      white

         falerno & ischian

             & lacrima cristi

                                    we've made up

                               for months

                  of loneliness

                      hard work

                        nastiness

                             of 'superiors'

         

              we may not live

          very well or long

 our mistakes are perhaps too great

        to bear correction

           at this midpoint

      of our lives (you're somewhat younger)

                          surely too great

 to make up for the lengths we go

            to hide them

                                     e cosi...that's

                                              how it goes 

          

                       but at least

                       we're ahead of the game

                   we've stolen a march

                        on the dead the herd 

          

 if the return to grayness

 sharp tempered weapons

 of those who force life

 into corners

        is more than we can bear

        remember this

            the wine

                the ladder

                     of stars that climb

                         vesuvius outside

                             my window

                          the waves

                            banging into smooth

                                 tufa caves 

          

 & the opera

               as we lay together

                                                remember