Access the full text.
Sign up today, get DeepDyve free for 14 days.
References for this paper are not available at this time. We will be adding them shortly, thank you for your patience.
PORCHLIGHTS / David Wojahn drill their yellow holes in evening and where you walk the houses go on drifting with their cargo. You've tried to sleep, but now you find your image gleaming from the puddled, sidewalk water, the payphone's light. You hold each other's gaze, but you know it's just your face, know this isolation doesn't scare, though you wanted, simply, to glimpse another life, the way new lovers do, even when they dress so shyly in the morning. Remember them? They ate breakfast on a porch in Maine, secretly ashamed of loneliness, how the whole intoxicating mess began again the night before. This is why the woman's fingers turned her napkin into flakes of snow, why the man would think of houses floating dully with their loads and watch a young dalmatian penned inside a neighbor's yard. It howled, and wound its leash around a tree, its radius a little smaller. The Missouri Review · 25 THE LAST COUPLES LEAVING THE GREEN DOLPHIN BAR / David Wojahn Because it was the end of summer the red moon caught in skittish treetops and our bodies made a kind of speech like breaking glass, far off. The young
The Missouri Review – University of Missouri
Published: Oct 5, 1982
Read and print from thousands of top scholarly journals.
Already have an account? Log in
Bookmark this article. You can see your Bookmarks on your DeepDyve Library.
To save an article, log in first, or sign up for a DeepDyve account if you don’t already have one.
Copy and paste the desired citation format or use the link below to download a file formatted for EndNote
Access the full text.
Sign up today, get DeepDyve free for 14 days.
All DeepDyve websites use cookies to improve your online experience. They were placed on your computer when you launched this website. You can change your cookie settings through your browser.