Paul's Case II

Paul's Case
__________________

“He burnt like a
faggot in a tempest”
—Willa Cather,
Paul’s Case, A Study
in Temperament

Life was a lie—
but I was quite accustomed
to lying thru my teeth

I found it, indeed—
indispensable for
overcoming friction

Rancor & the usual—
evinced str8t aggrievedness
that’s usually the case
___________________________

Gay impertinence—
among my offences named
yet that’s scarcely it

It’s impossible—
to put into words the real
cause of my trouble

A sort of hysterically—
defiant manner & contempt
which all knew I felt for them
____________________________________

And I seemingly—
didn’t make the least effort
to conceal my distain

If they’d touch me—
I’d start back with a shudder
thrust myself violently away

People were offended—
hurt and embarrassed as if
I’d insulted them
__________________________

I had this physical—
aversion to everyone
men and women alike

People felt my—
bad attitude was symbolized
by my shrug and flippantly

Smiling, my pale lips—
parted over my white teeth
my lips continually twitching
_______________________________

I had this habit of—
seemingly raising my eyebrows
contemptuously and irritatingly

My only sign of discomfort—
a nervous trembling of my
nostrils like I smelled shit

I was always smiling—
always glancing around me
seemingly at all the cute boys
_____________________________________

I’d be watching them—
and trying to detect something
obscene in their looks

My sordid bad attitude—
was usually attributed to
insolence or "smartness"

"I don't know," I said—
"I didn't mean to be
polite or impolite, either.”
_________________________________

“I guess it's the sort—
of way I have of saying
things, regardless."

My teachers in despair—
there was something about
me none of them understood

“That smile of his comes—
not from insolence, there's
something haunting about him”
___________________________________

My white, blue-veined face—
it was drawn and wrinkled like
an old man's about the eyes

My lips twitching even—
in my sleep, my face stiff with
nervous frozen tension

Whistling the soldiers' chorus—
from "Faust," looking wildly around,
writhing in my light-heartedness
__________________________

It wasn’t that movies—
meant anything in particular
to me except for one thing

That first sigh of relief—
when the movie started
up there on the Silver Screen

Something that struggled—
like the Genius in the bottle
found by the Arab fisherman
_______________________________

I felt a sudden zest of life—
the screen dancing before my
eyes and the Cineplex blazing

Unimaginable splendor—
when Marlene Dietrich comes on
closing my eyes, giving it away

That peculiar stimulus—
such personages always have
Within Bijou walls