The season's ill—
We've lost our summer millionaire,
Who seemed to leap from an L. L. Bean
Catalogue. His nine-knot yawl
Was auctioned off to lobstermen.
A red fox stain covers Blue Hill.
And now our fairy
Decorator brightens his shop for fall;
His fishnet's filled with orange cork,
Orange, his cobbler's bench and awl;
There is no money in his work,
He'd rather marry.
One dark night,
My Tudor Ford climbed the hill's skull;
I watched for love-cars. Lights turned down,
They lay together, hull to hull,
Where the graveyard shelves on the town. . . .
My mind's not right.
A car radio bleats,
“Love, O careless Love. . . . I hear
My ill-spirit sob in each blood cell,
Robert Lowell is essential stalking a couple being intimate (possibly voyeurism) in a car, he acknowledges his strange behaviour stating ‘My mind’s not right’ Robert Lowell suffered from bipolar disorder
Skunk Hour