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.