I was poking through a pile of books on the dollar table at The Strand today. The Strand is a New York institution at the corner of 12th Street and Broadway dealing in 18 miles of books- they have little satellite booths at Union Square and at the southern entrance to Central Park and one on Fulton Street but the Village location is the main one, which turns 80 this year. I cannot skip fumbling through their dollar tables. The dollar table is generally the last stop before the dust bin for tired, outdated, text books, Stephen King novels rippling from having fallen (I like to believe) in the puddle beside the bathtub when the reader fell asleep, crusty old hardcovers that greet the opener of their sandy bookcloth covers with the whiff of "been too long in the basement" mildew.In the musty heap I found this great little book, "A Heap O' Livin'" By Edgar A. Guest. It was the cover I liked- and the size, a slim navy volume with the title of the book stamped in a warm gold. Truth be told I didn't even open the book. I loved the feel of it in my hand and that good feeling is not often price stickered at $1. When I got home- understand I was up at 6 this morning and at the DMV by 7 this morning to change the date for my second driver's test (which I WILL pass- see Fred- I'm being intentional) (Oh, its on October the 25th anyone reading this clap if you believe in - oh wait that's fairies- just think a good thought- I'll appreciate it) So the little book find was the highlight of my day. I lay down on the bed for an hour before my driving lesson at 4 and took Mr. Guest's book for company. It's a poetry book. Aside from Ogden Nash and ee cummings and Pablo Neruda I am not all that much of a poetry fan. I read Fred's poetry, which I love because I hear his heart in the lines but that is more about love than the art form. Mr. Guest wrote in the early part of the 20th century. There are a lot of nice poems- all in traditional rhyme and many would fit well in a Hallmark card but there was one- so close to the current focus of my days I had a very hard time recalling it was published in 1916. This post is purely written to share it with you.
To the Lady in the Electric
Lady in the show case carriage
Do not think that I'm a bear
Not for worlds would I disparage
One so gracious and so fair;
Do not think that I am blind to
One who has a smile seraphic;
You I'd never be unkind to
But you are impeding traffic.
If I had some way of knowing
What you are about to do,
Just exactly where you're going
If I could depend on you,
I could keep my engine churning,
Travel on and never mind you.
Lady when you think of turning,
Why not signal us behind you?
Lady free from care and worry
Riding in your plate glass car
Some of us must travel far.
I, myself am eager, very
To be journeying on my way.
Lady, is it necessary
To monopolize the highway?
Lady at the handle steering,
Why not keep a course that's straight?
Know you not that wildly veering
As you do, is tempting fate?
Do not think my horn I'm blowing
Just on purpose to harass you,
It is just a signal showing
that I'd safely like to pass you.
Lady, there are times a duty
Must be done, however saddening;
It is hard to tell a beauty
That she's very often maddening.
And I would not now be saying
Harsh and cruel words to fuss you
But when traffic you're delaying
You are forcing men to cuss you.
Well, Mr. Guest, clear the sidewalk 'cause here I come! :)X
No comments:
Post a Comment