|The 'walkers' of Newport, Rhode Island...
By Zyskandar A. Jaimot on 06/07/2007
Rating: No Rating
The 'walkers' of Newport, Rhode Island...
Line-up in a procession of well-spoken baritones,
The voices of gentil hommes to act their parts.
Mature men mostly. Speaking wistfully of old boats,
Old money, old memories like those that glimmer,
Safe in mansions on famous Bellevue Avenue.
A prestigious address of this society where
A band of regular escorts, immaculately outfitted
And groomed, are reliable as spring rains but unattached
To anything but payment for services rendered.
Pretend Lotharios mark time, waiting
On the whims of their female momentary mates.
Strolling along this showplace street of crenelated silence.
A world of moments growing older as eternal dusk
Shrouds old ballrooms as they sprawl sleeping,
Like ancient coelocanths as they hug the ocean bottom.
Waiting to be resurrected in the social columns
Of those newspapers that still indulge an era
Where Ivy league university-trained suitables,
Called on ladies only after presenting a proper card.
All of that unnecessary now, for these asterisks of old bones,
True ladies who once bore erect carriage and demeanor
As if fortified by fossilized bits of marrow and shell.
The days of debutantes are over - products of breeding
From a bye gone age. Old Newport women,
Still fashionably dressed in couture, slump,
In raiments of an outmoded phylum and strata
Demurely held by arms of their paid companions.
And at the end of evening, safe in foyers
Of limestone mansion caves that once dripped importance
On this stalagmite island of summer palaces;
The 'walkers' take their leave always politely bowing
Before accepting cash stuffed in plain white envelopes.
© By Zyskandar A. Jaimot On 6/7/2007 9:18:30 AM