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John Berryman - Dream Song 111: I miss him. When I get back to camp
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I miss him. When I get back to camp
I`ll dig him up. Well, he can prop & watch,
can`t he, pink or blue,
and I will talk to him. I miss him. Slams,
grand or any, aren`t for the tundra much.
One face-card will do.

It`s marvellous how four sit down—beyond
my thought how many tables sometimes are 
in forgotten clubs
across & down the world. Your fever conned
us, pal. Will it work out, my solitaire?
The blubber`s safe in the tubs,

the dogs are still, & all`s well . . . nine long times
I loosed & buried. Then I shot him dead.
I don`t remember why.
The Captain of the supply ship, playing for dimes, 
thinks I killed him. The black cards are red
and where`s the others? I—
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