To Mary
My love, beneath all this debris of sophistication and knowing
you have been there with your refusal to know for sure
anything your cat would not know as well
like what words mean darkness and who, after all, is false.
The trick is what you surprisingly know —
how to be there at the same time as your words
arriving in my eyes with the present of yourself
as if in your case alone
someone forgot to tell you the bad news about life.
And who knows anyway anything my love
but a slice of cat through all this antique air
has lit up your eyes like the unexpected star
which fell once beyond the drive-in movie
just as I was thinking that Brando and his pigeons were enough.