Ambassadors

The book is slow and reads as though

he paced the room

and had his secretary write

the words he spoke

A legal brief, a dictaphone

And then my eyes were lifted by

the mortal slap, the screeching tires

I'd rather read this book than take a look

The dead can speak in books and charm

the lives of abject souls like mine

A strangers death cannot deliver

love, or truth, or anything but shock

I sat down and cried

Henry James can't lie

If E.M. Forester loved this book

enjoyed, endorsed the time it took

to read the book, I'll sit and read

and mute the scene I saw

in spite of what I said

Her crooked nose, her yawning mouth,

Her pantyhose

The pubic bone, the shattered glass,

The smell of gas

Her grocery bags are scattered by my feet

Just get up and leave