February 26Bar Association
Listen to David Lehman reading this poem.
I didn't meant to alarm you
When I told you I loved you
I thought it would charm you
I was drunk at the time
When I told you I loved you
You wore pristine blue jeans at the bar
I was drunk at the time
Don't think I didn't notice
You wore pristine blue jeans at the bar
And sat on the bar stool beside me
Don't think I didn't notice
And the predicted snow began to fall
You sat on the bar stool beside me
When you looked in the mirror it dissolved
And the predicted snow began to fall
But failed to accumulate, disappointing all
When you looked in the mirror it dissolved
When you looked out the window it snowed
But failed to accumulate, disappointing all
Who had stayed awake to watch it fall
When you looked out the window it snowed
And the moon was full
We had stayed awake to watch it fall
And day broke
And the moon was full
I thought it would charm you
And day broke
I didn't mean to alarm you.
David Lehman is the editor of The Oxford Book of American Poetry. He won the 2010 Deems Taylor Award from ASCAP for his book A Fine Romance: Jewish Songwriters, American Songs. He teaches in the graduate writing program at the New School in New York City.
Clickhere to visit Robert Pinsky's Favorite Poem Project site.To submit poetry to Slate, send up to five poems and a self-addressed, stamped envelope to: Robert Pinsky, Slate Magazine, Boston University, 236 Bay State Road, Boston, MA, 02215.



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