Song
Song
by Randall Mann
I found my muster station, sir.
My skin is patent leather.
The tourists are recidivists.
This calm is earthquake weather.
I’ve used up all the mulligans.
I’d kill to share a vice.
The youngster reads a yellowed Oui.
The socialite has lice.
The Europe trip I finally took
was rash and Polaroid,
was gilt, confit, and bathhouse foam.
And I cannot avoid
the end: I will not die in Paris,
won’t rest for good behind
a painted mausoleum door.
The purser will not find
me mummified beneath your tulle,
and Paris will not burn.
Today is Thursday, so I’ll die.
Come help me pick my urn.
Interesting to see a rhyming poem. Looked up some words. “Muster station” is where passengers on a ship are sent in event of an emergency. “Mulligan” is a second chance in a game. “Oul” is a Czech workers mutual society. “Confit” is duck or other meat cooked slowly in its own fat. “Purser” is a ship officer who keeps the accounts. “Tulle” is a kind of fabric. All these meanings pretty much fit in the poem, but none of the lines add up to much. It seems the poet is a traveler who ends up feeling he wants to die. But why and how? The title gives no clue.