The Problem of Anxiety

Fifty years have passed
since I started living in those dark towns
I was telling you about.
Well, not much has changed. I still can't figure out
how to get from the post office to the swings in the park.
Apple trees blossom in the cold, not from conviction,
and my hair is the color of dandelion fluff.

Suppose this poem were about you - would you
put in the things I've carefully left out:
descriptions of pain, and sex, and how shiftily
people behave toward each other? Naw, that's
all in some book it seems. For you
I've saved the descriptions of chicken sandwiches,
and the glass eye that stares at me in amazement
from the bronze mantel, and will never be appeased.

by John Ashbery

Comments (4)

Boy is this ever true! Very well said!
Well John, I am going to be a preacher some day. And I really didn't know that about haiku. I'm just a college kid, give me a break.
this is not haiku. everybody knows about this. it is too preachy. you could have added some subtlety like he says i love you and i tell him to show it to me
I just loved this haiku of yours.. trully amazing, it is a 10++ for me :) HBH