Dear Andrew,
I had a similar experience with a poem when a woman from Argentina
did not know any of the items I recalled from my childhood, like Nehi
soda, Keds tennis shoes and so on. I thought these things were like
McDonalds...infiltrated world wide
>I wrote this poem over the last two days, and showed it to an American
>young man today - he liked it but asked what Fantales were! It never
>struck me that they were not USA of origin because they were
>(originally) all about Hollywood stars. (They have since broadened.)
>Fantales are a chocolate coated lolly with caramel inside. The wrapper
>details the life and career of at least one major film star - very
>compressed into maybe thirty or forty words. Here goes nothing:
>
>
>
>(title) My True Account
>
>I've seen these hands on old men before—
>swollen rivers, deep valleys and bony ranges,
>dark brooding between knuckles. I know
>
>the back of my hand like my own country.
>In the Fifties, I read Milton and Rosenberg
>on a wooden desk, with a chipped inkwell.
>
>That desktop spelt a history of boys
>before me, their hieroglyphs and spilt ink
>characterising my space, my view.
>
>Upstairs in the dorm, my bed-high locker
>held what was me—all else cluttered in
>grey flannel pockets: rosary beads, coins,
>
>and Fantale wrappers, to be smoothed
>and added to my collection—
>Alan Ladd, June Allyson, James Stewart.
>
>Milton and Rosenberg drew me in to
>their intense reality. I built a chapel in my head
>and read their words like litany: the sudden
>
>uprising of larks on return, then
>dawn. I was twelve, I saw him die.
>'They also serve who only stand and waite.'
>
>Serve? I am of the individual generation,
>sitting on our merry-go-round horses, riding to
>our faux rebellion, nervous to dismount.
>
>
>Poem ends. Any feedback welcome.
>
>
>--
>Andrew
>http://hispirits.blogspot.com/
>http://www.bam.com.au/andrew
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