Paul's Case

Paul's Case
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“Paul dropped back
into the immense
design of things.”
—Willa Cather,
Paul’s Case, A Study
in Temperament

I woke up the next—
morning with a painful
throbbing in my head

I’d thrown myself—
across the bed without
undressing and fell

Fell deeply asleep—
and had slept with my shoes on
my limbs and hands heavy
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My tongue and throat—
were simply parched and burnt
that’s when it happened

I’d had one of those—
fateful attacks of simply
awful clear-headedness

They occurred when I—
was physically exhausted and
my nerves were just shot
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I lay still and closed—
my eyes and let the tide
of things wash over me

I’d swish into the—
dining-room with my dizzy
mind losing myself again

The equally swishy—
music heightening my nelly
remembrance of things
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My gay elasticity—
for claiming the moment
came back to him again

The band played on—
the glare and glitter of it
dancing around me

All the tres chic—
scenic accessories with
their old potency
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And for one last time—
I’d show myself that I
could still play the game

I’d finish the facade—
Splendidly with lovely class
Why should I care?

I doubted everything—
Cordelia Street and all
my closeted past life
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For the first time I—
drank my wine recklessly
was I not, after all, gay?

One of the lucky ones—
born to be despicable
yet still proudly myself?

I drummed nervously—
in accompaniment to the
Pagliacci music
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And looked about me
telling himself over and over
that it was all paid for

The swell of the music—
the chill sweetness of my wine
hadn’t I done it wisely?

I might have caught an—
overnight flight to Paris
to avoid their clutches
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But gay Paris was—
after all a bit too gay
and too far away

If I had to choose—
over again, I would do
the same thing again

I looked affectionately—
around the dining-room
now gilded with soft mist
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Ah, I’d paid indeed!—
Paid in cash for all of it
New York had been fun

I’d spent the $100,000 and—
knew now, more than ever
that money was everything

the luring balcony—
that stood between all I
loathed and all I wanted
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It was winding down—
I thought to myself after
a glorious time in New York

My mind was a medley—
of irrelevant things and
irrelevant feelings

When the right moment—
finally came, I jumped over
the railing into air
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As I fell, the folly—
of my haste occurred to him
with merciless clearness

The vastness of what—
I’d left undone flashed by me
clearer than ever before

Blue Adriatic sky—
yellow of Algerian sands
sunsets by the Seine
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Thru the air, going down—
immeasurably far and fast
my limbs gently relaxed

Then, because the—
movie-making mechanism
had been crushed forever

Things flashed into black—
and I dropped back into the
immense design of things