The Day Lady Died
by Frank O’Hara
It is 12:20 in New York a Friday
three days after Bastille day, yes
it is 1959 and I go get a shoeshine
because I will get off the 4:19 in Easthampton
at 7:15 and then go straight to dinner
and I don’t know the people who will feed me
I walk up the muggy street beginning to sun
and have a hamburger and a malted and buy
an ugly NEW WORLD WRITING to see what the poets
in Ghana are doing these days
I go on to the bank
and Miss Stillwagon (first name Linda I once heard)
doesn’t even look up my balance for once in her life
and in the GOLDEN GRIFFIN I get a little Verlaine
for Patsy with drawings by Bonnard although I do
think of Hesiod, trans. Richmond Lattimore or
Brendan Behan’s new play or Le Balcon or Les Nègres
of Genet, but I don’t, I stick with Verlaine
after practically going to sleep with quandariness
and for Mike I just stroll into the PARK LANE
Liquor Store and ask for a bottle of Strega and
then I go back where I came from to 6th Avenue
and the tobacconist in the Ziegfeld Theatre and
casually ask for a carton of Gauloises and a carton
of Picayunes, and a NEW YORK POST with her face on it
and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of
leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT
while she whispered a song along the keyboard
to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathing
[Selected by Andrew Ross, author of Nice Work If You Can Get It: Life and Labor in Precarious Times. "In his own breathless way, O'Hara recounts how business as usual (and it really is his business) can be brought to a standstill. " From Lunch Poems (City Lights Pocket Poets Series)
by Frank O'Hara.]
Andrew Ross’s
Susan Boyle is the would-be Scottish Edith Piaf, whose vocal prowess on a TV talent show brought her instant global fame month. The stark contrast between her humble station and the nobility of her voice caught the mood of the recession. Indeed, the story of this unemployed and socially isolated woman who hit the media jackpot may be the first of many such parables thrown up by our hard times. As millions around the world lose their jobs every month, and countless more confront the fear of falling, the Depression genre of “rags-to-riches,” which brought us Seabiscuit and other unlikely champions, will get a good airing. The lucrative talent show industry (which exploits “free” amateur labor) is in the right place at the right time to sell us this kind of solace.
Andrew Ross, Professor of Social and Cultural Analysis at NYU and author of the forthcoming Nice Work If You Can Get It (NYU Press 2009), provided much of the commentary for