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About ten years ago I lived on the Canadian West Coast together with a lovely family and quite a few foreign students from Bresil, France and Japan. I wonder what has become out of the little boy. I also wonder what has become out of my French Au pair children. I wish the best for all of them. But I want to talk about a trip to California I did with a friend of mine. We went to San Francisco by Greyhound Bus. Long distances but it was fun. I did not have flowers in my hair but on my mind because I had always wished to go to San Fran. I did some typical touristy things of course but what impressed me most were the Sequoia trees near the city… The city is pretty, too, though. I like original means of transport like the cable cars but most of the time I walk when I am on holiday. I let myself to be carried along… Most of the time. But I went to City Lights Bookstore on purpose. I’ve always loved bookstores and libraries. A bookstore is like an oasis in a bustling city. You can retreat and submerge in an ocean of literature, or just one poem…

I got the collection of poems ‘A Coney Island of the Mind’. Ferlinghetti considers his poems to be “a kind of circus of the soul” (p.8). That is a great description of poetry. Some poems express a feeling of great joy, joy doing somersaults… But there is also the feeling of sadness and melancolia omnipresent in poetry and in circusses. I once stayed with an English lady from Middlesbrough when I did an internship in the North of England. We had tea and she gave me a poetry book. Second-hand. I found it great because there were commentaries from other people, which allow you a glance into their thoughts. I will look at the book again for sure…

The poem I would like to present here is called “Johnny Nolan has a patch on his ass”. I think everybody must have experienced something similar as Johnny Nolan, whoever that is. I leave it uncommented:

“Johnny Nolan has a patch on his ass”

Kids chase him

thru screendoor summers

Thru the back streets

of all my memories

Somewhere a man laments

upon a violin

A doorstep baby cries

and cries again

like

a

ball

bounced

down steps

Which helps the afternoon arise again

to a moment of remembered hysteria

Johnny Nolan has a patch on his ass

Kids chase him

 

Pobrecito.