歌词
What is it that makes Nixon and Khrushchev look up from their plates
the night the ship is brought to a standstill
in the Transatlantic vacuum?*
The saucings are ready, tele-religious
Crew and waiters were radically quick
“Don’t you agree?” says Dick,
digging into New England clam chowder,
“So much happens in French and German, only, it won’t reach me”
(*If only you’d convince me that the brake is right in front of me!*)
Khrush glares down at the clams
and bites his grey lower lip to think:
If I had those brought to me raw, I'd rinse them
Then I’d pull them out of cold water, riddled
But then I’d stop to think for twenty years after a minute,
and I’d fail to serve them in this Cold War kitchen
Now bowls arrive with a continental meal: watercress
makes for goodnight salad
and distills the starfish in Dick’s breath
What is it that makes Nixon and Khrushchev look up from their plates
as bureaus of light from gentle Jupiter
come trailing west on the endless waters
to dry-bathe on the deck?
“You sure let the economy float free to self-inflate” says Khrush
with a scarecrow smile growing harder
“But – what was that? Good ideas in French and German don’t exactly circulate?”
(*How can you let yourself manipulate? The brake is right in front of you!*)
For a second Dick drifts off back home,
spends Halloween on the red carpet,
then bites his gray lower lip to gain himself back
World leader hunger hurls against the ship’s balcony
Khrush draws a shy, internal bath
Kate and Sammy made it through the separation
by sharing material between Texas and Tuscany
Now wine and sandwiches are presented on the table:
Pinot-Botticelli – here's to European users
A toast to the arts straight out of the galley
——————————-
*I bought the painting in a gallery
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