THE DÉJÀ VU VILLANELLE
At least you can be uncertain about this life
and puzzle whether your souvenirs could be found.
Your old names have been scribbled in a list.
Shopping, you’re unsure if you need avocados;
and wasn’t there someone you’d promised to visit later?
At least you can be uncertain about this life.
You’re moody. You shuffle the tarot, dim the lights.
The card of your distant past is the Wheel of Fortune.
Your old names have been scribbled in a list,
which must be some place, like your list of errands;
lunch with Sophie today, or next week Tuesday?
And whereas you can be uncertain about this life,
in your dream you’re Egyptian, the man is from Utah.
Next you stroll in Atlantis, he flies to New Jersey.
Your old names have been scribbled in a list.
Confusing… should you lose your cool or dance?
But you’re sure you lived last in either Ireland or China.
At least you can be uncertain about this life;
Your old names aren’t your own, they’re dreams for lists.
Jack Hayes
© 2010
Pic shows graffiti in Chicago in 1984; the poem was written on this trip!
And this is how I feel. Except I always need avocados. A very lovely claustrophobic flow to it.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Mar--yes, of course, one does need avocados; that was the oversight of a young poet! Glad you liked this.
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