b.z. niditch | sleeping in

SLEEPING IN

Insomnia at Boston’s
once rent controlled
high rise
in the South End
near the jazz clubs
the Hi Hat, Scullers
and Walley’s cafe
where Sarah Vaughn
created a sensation,
sleeping in
at my friend’s space
needing rest
but watching
post war
movies by Fassbinder
in black and white,
and Hitchcock’s
expressionist film noirs’
like Vertigo or Detour
Alfred H.
though not American
nor German expatriate
was an artist
a main man director
in his own hand,
waking up to
falling in love again
with Marlene Dietrich
understood only by her
loyal friends
putting on Armstrong’s
“Give me your kisses”
from a old ’78,
catching some action
after drinking Pinot Noir
from my buddy’s smuggled
Dresden wine glasses,
prepping up on Brecht
for my week-end audition
never missing a chance
at a good line or wine.

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