I’ve been taking grandpa’s suits out of his closet, and getting them retailored.
They are beautiful suits, bespoke, Brooks Brothers, and I can’t stand to see them just hanging there, in plastic, away in the front closet, like museum storage, or still waiting in his and grandma’s bedroom, like he’s about to come home and then…
I read this passage in Foucault’s Pendulum, on the floor of someone else’s bedroom in Madrid, when I was 17, and it meant a great deal to me then, and still does now.
She left with a canvas bag, a volume of political economy…
Originally printed in The Philadelphia Independent (“TOO BIG TO READ ON THE SUBWAY/BEHOLDEN TO NO ONE”), March 2003
The zipper broke on my red sweater, and I can’t find my other
sneaker. Mr. McFeely’s worried the puppets will all lie there limp
and mute, but…
Why, man, they did make love to this employment;
They are not near my conscience; their defeat
Does by their own insinuation grow:
‘Tis dangerous when the baser nature comes
Between the pass and fell incensed points
Of mighty opposites.