Marilyn

Through Erno Laszlo’s window, on the Fifth Avenue New York, I saw her; bold I was in those days walked straight in asked her to marry me. She smiled thought, I was too young and, anyway, she was getting married to a writer, forgotten his name now, but he was quite famous back then. A flunky came over, asked Marilyn If I was bothering her, not at all, she said, gave me a kiss that covered my whole face. Blindly fell out of the shop, people smiled. Ambled past Laszlo’s the other day they had a picture of her looking out and now that I’m much older than her she looked unbearable beautiful.