80 GOOD NIGHT
By William Carlos Williams
In brilliant gas light
I turn the kitchen spigot
and watch the water plash
into the clean white sink．
On the grooved drain-board to one side is
a glass filled with parsley—
crisped green．
Waiting
for the water to freshen—
I glance at the spotless floor—
a pair of rubber sandals
lie side by side
under the wall-table
all is in order for the night．
Waiting，with a glass in my hand
—three girls in crimson satin
pass close before me on
the murmurous background of
the crowded opera—
it is
memory playing the clown—
three vague，meaningless girls
full of smells and
the rustling sound of
cloth rubbing on cloth and
little slippers on carpet—
high-school French
spoken in a loud voice！
Parsley in a glass，
still and shining，
brings me back．I take my drink
and yawn deliciously．
I am ready for bed．
