ROMANCE Poem: Murmur, by Mark Walsh

Will you meet me down in
the dingy part of town
near Dunsinane
and the Burnham Bar
where we’ll suck cold wine from Evenflo.

Will you meet me in that basement
under the piano factory
where the silence begins
and the bodies float
where we’ll create new words with our hands.

Will you meet me in that doorway
sealed up with brick
in the discount alley
on that souledout street
where we’ll look for deals in the dumpsters.

Will you meet me in that phone booth
at the end of electricity
on the All World Party Line
and tubular highway
where we’ll talk about greening and systems and cyber-touching.

Will you meet me with your candlesticks
in that lonesome graveyard
on the boulevard of tombs
among the spidery footpaths
where we’ll trace our names and place pebbles on our graves.

Oh my grungy one
with the dust in your hair
and patchouli on your neck
We’ll ride by dusk and discover hunger and
what it means
to starve.