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| − | <pre>
| + | {{Lyrics| |
| − | Two toy American flags, jaundice yellow it's really tan | + | Two toy American flags |
| − | on the roof and tranquilized, pajama fresh suburban
| + | Jaundice-yellow ("It's really tan") |
| − | I am 40 given a year in Robert Lowell's electric chair
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | jailbird entanglement day, blew their tops and beat him blue
| + | On the roof and tranquilized |
| − | drifting lobotomized calm reappraisals in the air
| + | Pajama fresh suburban |
| − | I am 40 given a year in Robert Lowell's electric chair
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | Two toy American flags, jaundice yellow it's really tan
| + | I am 40 given a year |
| − | on the roof and tranquilized, pajama fresh suburban
| + | In Robert Lowell's electric chair |
| − | I am 40 given a year in Robert Lowell's electric chair | + | |
| − | </pre>
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | -------------------------------
| + | Jailbird entanglement day |
| − | Compare to the poem, "Memories of West Street and Lepke," available at [http://www.poets.org/poems/poems.cfm?45442B7C000C07050C71 Poets.org]
| + | Blew their tops and beat him blue |
| | | | |
| − | <pre>
| + | Drifting lobotomized calm |
| − | Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming
| + | Reappraisals in the air |
| − | in pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, | + | |
| − | I hog a whole house on Boston's
| + | |
| − | "hardly passionate Marlborough Street,"
| + | |
| − | where even the man
| + | |
| − | scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans,
| + | |
| − | has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate,
| + | |
| − | and is "a young Republican."
| + | |
| − | I have a nine months' daughter,
| + | |
| − | young enough to be my granddaughter.
| + | |
| − | Like the sun she rises in her flame-flamingo infants' wear.
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | These are the tranquilized Fifties,
| + | I am 40 given a year |
| − | and I am forty. Ought I to regret my seedtime?
| + | In Robert Lowell's electric chair |
| − | I was a fire-breathing Catholic C.O.,
| + | |
| − | and made my manic statement,
| + | |
| − | telling off the state and president, and then
| + | |
| − | sat waiting sentence in the bull pen
| + | |
| − | beside a negro boy with curlicues
| + | |
| − | of marijuana in his hair.
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | Given a year,
| + | Two toy American flags |
| − | I walked on the roof of the West Street Jail, a short
| + | Jaundice-yellow ("It's really tan") |
| − | enclosure like my school soccer court,
| + | |
| − | and saw the Hudson River once a day
| + | |
| − | through sooty clothesline entanglements
| + | |
| − | and bleaching khaki tenements.
| + | |
| − | Strolling, I yammered metaphysics with Abramowitz,
| + | |
| − | a jaundice-yellow ("it's really tan")
| + | |
| − | and fly-weight pacifist,
| + | |
| − | so vegetarian,
| + | |
| − | he wore rope shoes and preferred fallen fruit.
| + | |
| − | He tried to convert Bioff and Brown,
| + | |
| − | the Hollywood pimps, to his diet.
| + | |
| − | Hairy, muscular, suburban,
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| − | wearing chocolate double-breasted suits,
| + | |
| − | they blew their tops and beat him black and blue.
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | I was so out of things, I'd never heard
| + | On the roof and tranquilized |
| − | of the Jehovah's Witnesses.
| + | Pajama fresh suburban |
| − | "Are you a C.O.?" I asked a fellow jailbird.
| + | |
| − | "No," he answered, "I'm a J.W."
| + | |
| − | He taught me the "hospital tuck,"
| + | |
| − | and pointed out the T-shirted back | + | |
| − | of Murder Incorporated's Czar Lepke,
| + | |
| − | there piling towels on a rack,
| + | |
| − | or dawdling off to his little segregated cell full
| + | |
| − | of things forbidden to the common man:
| + | |
| − | a portable radio, a dresser, two toy American
| + | |
| − | flags tied together with a ribbon of Easter palm.
| + | |
| − | Flabby, bald, lobotomized,
| + | |
| − | he drifted in a sheepish calm,
| + | |
| − | where no agonizing reappraisal
| + | |
| − | jarred his concentration on the electric chair
| + | |
| − | hanging like an oasis in his air
| + | |
| − | of lost connections. . . .
| + | |
| − | </pre>
| + | |
| | | | |
| − | [[Category:Lyrics]]
| + | I am 40 given a year |
| | + | In Robert Lowell's electric chair |
| | + | }} |
