DAN KAPLAN
+
I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
It's one of those new apartments, wet paint and no telephone yet.
Each piece wrapped in gold paper.
It’s not a very clear picture.
I'd invite you to my bedroom if I had a bedroom.
I always do when we're in session here.
My recommendation is still the same. We’re not talking.
I mention it because the bed doesn't seem like it's been slept in.
It’s something about my face. I have a big face.
It may not be cold enough.
I knew I should’ve served dinner earlier.
I never felt more alive.
I assumed Chicago.
I was wondering if I ought to change.
If you'd give this to one of the attendants in the public lounge.
If I might have a few words of parting.
I doubt if I'll see anybody else tonight.
The skin glow rehearsal’s at noon.
“[I never discuss love on an empty stomach.]” is comprised entirely of dialogue from Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959).
I never discuss love on an empty stomach.
It's one of those new apartments, wet paint and no telephone yet.
Each piece wrapped in gold paper.
It’s not a very clear picture.
I'd invite you to my bedroom if I had a bedroom.
I always do when we're in session here.
My recommendation is still the same. We’re not talking.
I mention it because the bed doesn't seem like it's been slept in.
It’s something about my face. I have a big face.
It may not be cold enough.
I knew I should’ve served dinner earlier.
I never felt more alive.
I assumed Chicago.
I was wondering if I ought to change.
If you'd give this to one of the attendants in the public lounge.
If I might have a few words of parting.
I doubt if I'll see anybody else tonight.
The skin glow rehearsal’s at noon.
“[I never discuss love on an empty stomach.]” is comprised entirely of dialogue from Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest (1959).
+
As for now, let’s call it even.
A few beams and birds, respectively.
The cushions have been washed, delivered to the hotels.
There are mailboxes on the streets.
If you can, stay for tea, but explain that you must leave soon.
The teenagers did not study--
they are inside.
Someone from the living room may call out.
May hand someone a pastry.
Night falls in the palms, the stores open around the clock.
The rates of exchange,
the timing could be better.
To make the present and the present
continuous tense.
As for now, let’s call it even.
A few beams and birds, respectively.
The cushions have been washed, delivered to the hotels.
There are mailboxes on the streets.
If you can, stay for tea, but explain that you must leave soon.
The teenagers did not study--
they are inside.
Someone from the living room may call out.
May hand someone a pastry.
Night falls in the palms, the stores open around the clock.
The rates of exchange,
the timing could be better.
To make the present and the present
continuous tense.
Dan Kaplan
Dan Kaplan is the author of Bill’s Formal Complaint (The National Poetry Review Press, 2008). His poems appear in American Letters & Commentary, VOLT, Denver Quarterly, and elsewhere. He lives in Portland, OR.
