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<i> Excerpts from a longer work. From "The Collected Poems of Henri Coulette" (University of Arkansas Press: $24.95). Patrick O'Reilly. Reprinted with
permission</i> You arrive in a new town. Your suitcase yawns. Your troubles Unpack themselves and dress up. A night on the town! Poor town. The wallpaper reminds you Of a story or poem
You started once in a room Much like this room, this poem. You will dial Room Service And order a fifth of gin. You will drink an inch of it, Clear as cellophane, and laugh, Having heard in
the next room The shuffle of playing cards. You will knock. You will sit in. You will fill your inside straights. -- -- -- You are the tall dark stranger, and his ghost. You will forgive.
You will forget. Almost. -- -- -- There are those who dream of keys. There are those who dream of locks. You dream of neither. You are the key; You are the lock. There is no turning. You are
like a good novelist. Your characters never open doors, Never close them. And when they speak, They say _ thou_ , they say _ thee._ MORE TO READ