Idyll

(Base USO club, Zweibrucken, Germany, 1963) Of a lazy afternoon, I sit propped up, Bones aching, sorely tired from lack of work, And dutifully read the comic strips With bored eyes while my mind dozes. I sit enveloped in my peculiar Grayish pallor, which clings And will not disappear, And martyr myself to the gods of convention. I smoke acrid-tasting cigarettes and Loudly chew a cud of gum, popping it Absent-mindedly, and I turn the crinkly sounding Pages, one after one, slowly and intently, So as not to disarrange the sheaf. The dryish smell of printed comic strips Irritates my nose, but I don't sneeze -- Merely wriggle it a bit for some relief. My brightly polished shoes are propped Upon the table and I lean back and tilt the chair, and my hair Is closely cropped and combed with care, no strand Out of place, pomaded and arranged. My clothes are neat and clean and stylish And I brush away a nonexistent crumb and I slowly chew and loudly pop my gum, Moisten index finger, moisten thumb, And turn the colored printed page of comics, Snicker at the antics pictured While I glance about. And wonder.