Charles Simic; ‘Club Midnight’


Are you the sole owner of a seedy nightclub?

Are you its sole customer, sole bartender,
Sole waiter prowling around the empty tables?

Do you put on wee-hour girlie shows
With dead stars of black-and-white films?

Is your office upstairs over the neon lights,
Or down deep in the dank rat cellar?

Are bearded Russian thinkers your silent partners?
Do you have a doorman by the name of Dostoyevsky?

Is Fu Manchu coming tonight?
Is Miss Emily Dickinson?

Do you happen to have an immortal soul?
Do you have a sneaky suspicion that you have none?

Is that why you throw a white pair of dice,
In the dark, long after the joint closes?

Happy Birthday Noey. In my head, Dostoyevsky (and his ‘stache/beard combo) is opening the door of NoeySaki Love Casa while Anne Sexton is busy in the kitchen while making sweet, sweet love to Mary Oliver. Break it down.

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