Jubelolding på farligt asyl

Apropos digteralder, så har jeg i flere dage haft et New Yorker liggende, du var så sød at købe til mig i Magasin, da jeg var influenzanedlagt; jeg har læst både de det ene og det andet og bladret ivrigt, men det var først i dag, jeg midt inde i en artikel om squash, spillet, ikke frugten (er det en frugt?), fik øje på et splinternyt, blæret og veloplagt uforståeligt digt af lyslevende John Ashbery, født 1927, året før Per Højholt og Knud Sørensen:

DANGEROUS ASYLUM

As famous as a broken disc,
thansk for coming this way.
That's why I have to do it,
to be a goon that matters
into another person's life.

(at være en idiot der betyder noget
ind i en anden person liv LB)

You have a lousy voice, but
a good tenor. There, I've said it.
You'll have to quickly get back
on the job, brothers brothers.
In her transparent hair
she is, well, just a person,
Bruce confessed.

And that stuff is now getting cold.
I'll be there for you;
they want to cut them off from other
poppy-seed cakes,
getting - getting old again,
frustrated bobby-soxer.
Hold that opera - you made the lyrics.

You remind me of you.
We had been up to the Speculator once before.

Off you go then.