(Poem #1329) The Bagel
I stopped to pick up the bagel rolling away in the wind, annoyed with myself for having dropped it as if it were a portent. Faster and faster it rolled, with me running after it bent low, gritting my teeth, and I found myself doubled over and rolling down the street head over heels, one complete somersault after another like a bagel and strangely happy with myself.
A charming poem, striking just the right balance of absurdity and seriousness. And quite apart from its metaphorical meaning, it evokes a very literal and physical image - the childhood memory of running downhill as fast as I could, until I was not so much running as bounding, very out of control and very exhilarated. And, yes, strangely happy with myself. I must admit to not caring much for Ignatow's poetry in general; today's poem was a very welcome exception. martin Links: Biography: http://www.dlxs.org/products/archive-by-CDROM/4/TextClass/src/web/a/ampo20/bios/am22034.bio.html