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Love Song for an Air Hostess
I sit here, an admiring stranger,
Sexy Waitress of the skies.
Today we two are not quite human,
Objects in each other's eyes.
Perhaps I'll ask for extra coffee;
You take my plate and, maybe, smile.
You hope that we will all go quietly
And pass the empties to the aisle.
Uniformed to standard issue,
Chatting up the aircraft crew.
And I allow myself to wonder:
Plastic lady, do you screw? |
Architectural Memorial
What dignified and stately rhyme,
What echo, in pace, of another time
demands the subject of this oration,
the Milano Centrale Railway Station.
Escalator bound from the underground glooms
of the Metropolitana, above you it looms.
No mere utility, this edifice vast
is a monument to a particular past.
A tribute in concrete and stone to the power
of the state in that strange pre-World War II hour
When Il Duce played soap opera/costume drama
in a real life stage set and with real troops and armour.
It's no surprise, from this station, that things ran on time,
One can picture the costumes of the staff on the line.
From a horror film, here, the memory remains
of a man who was good at playing with trains.
17/6/88. |
