and I am sweating a lot by now and thinking of leaning on the john door in the 5 SPOT while she whispered a song along the keyboard to Mal Waldron and everyone and I stopped breathingNow this is an economics blog, so for National Poetry Month I will append another of my favorite poems, large portions of which I have excerpted in an article I wrote for JEI lo these many years ago. It is Elizabeth Bishop's "Crusoe in England."
| Crusoe in England|
A new volcano has erupted,
Well, I had fifty-two
My island seemed to be
I often gave way to self-pity.
The sun set in the sea; the same odd sun
Because I didn't know enough.
The island smelled of goat and guano.
Dreams were the worst. Of course I dreamed of food
Just when I thought I couldn't stand it
And then one day they came and took us off.
Now I live here, another island,
The local museum's asked me to