This is an intriguing and atmospheric poem — an impressionistic narrative that circles around longing, jealousy, betrayal, and the blurred lines between love and obsession. Its strongest feature is its voice: an intimate second-person address that pulls the reader into a confessional monologue. The shifting images and repeated motifs give it a filmic quality, yet its ambiguity also creates moments of confusion that both help and hinder its impact.
The opening lines immediately place us in a charged emotional space: “You set out to impress a girl / Hotel open to the public.” There’s an air of clandestine romance or a tryst that might be both public and private — a tension that continues throughout. The setting shifts fluidly: hotel, staircase, pub, train station, rooftop, fountain — all conjuring a dreamlike urban landscape that complements the speaker’s disorientation.
Your imagery is vivid and tactile: “Whiffing vestiges of velveteen upholstery,” “coquettish smile melting into dusk’s caress,” “makeshift metal willow tree.” These lines evoke both decadence and decay, lending the poem a noir atmosphere. The motif of circling — the fountain, the wandering, the phone calls — reinforces the cyclical nature of the speaker’s obsession.
One of the poem’s more compelling strengths is its layered ambiguity. Who exactly is the speaker to this “you”? A friend? A rival? A lover? Are they competing for the same woman, or is the speaker herself shifting into the shape of the woman they both desire? This ambiguity feels intentional and heightens the tension — but occasionally the narrative becomes so diffuse that it risks losing the reader’s emotional thread. For example, the shift from direct address (“You set out to impress a girl”) to the confessional (“I thought I should run to you / Playing with your undeserving heart”) is compelling but sometimes underexplained. The stakes of the betrayal — who is betraying whom — can feel murky.
There are beautiful moments of internal rhyme and consonance — “laced up leather Chelseas clacking down the street” is a delicious line — but at times, the poem could benefit from a slight tightening. Some lines drift into the prosaic and dilute the tension: “We talk of languages and families / And then you asked me for a drink.” These lines could be made sharper, either by condensing or by finding more arresting language.
The ending circles back to the beginning beautifully. The repetition of the girl with sea blue eyes and the final lines — “I am falling fast asleep / You said you liked a girl in glasses and a buttoned shirt—” — show how the speaker is trapped in this echo, unable to break free from desire and resentment.
Overall, this poem succeeds as a fever dream of unrequited longing and confused identity. Its mood is compelling, its images memorable. With slight refinement — clarifying certain narrative links and pruning some excess — it could become even more haunting. As it stands, it’s a strong piece that rewards multiple readings and lingers in the mind like a half-remembered late-night conversation.
I agree with your observations. Granted, I majored in English in the 1970s—which meant a rich immersion in T.S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens— so my tastes and understanding may be out of date. In the lines you mention, “We talk of languages and families/And then you asked me for a drink”, perhaps the poet’s intent in shifting from present tense to past tense is to show the speaker reliving the moment and then coming back to a present “reality?”
Who the “you” is, who the “ I “ is, whether there are three or four altogether, when and where in time, just escapes me.
This is an intriguing and atmospheric poem — an impressionistic narrative that circles around longing, jealousy, betrayal, and the blurred lines between love and obsession. Its strongest feature is its voice: an intimate second-person address that pulls the reader into a confessional monologue. The shifting images and repeated motifs give it a filmic quality, yet its ambiguity also creates moments of confusion that both help and hinder its impact.
The opening lines immediately place us in a charged emotional space: “You set out to impress a girl / Hotel open to the public.” There’s an air of clandestine romance or a tryst that might be both public and private — a tension that continues throughout. The setting shifts fluidly: hotel, staircase, pub, train station, rooftop, fountain — all conjuring a dreamlike urban landscape that complements the speaker’s disorientation.
Your imagery is vivid and tactile: “Whiffing vestiges of velveteen upholstery,” “coquettish smile melting into dusk’s caress,” “makeshift metal willow tree.” These lines evoke both decadence and decay, lending the poem a noir atmosphere. The motif of circling — the fountain, the wandering, the phone calls — reinforces the cyclical nature of the speaker’s obsession.
One of the poem’s more compelling strengths is its layered ambiguity. Who exactly is the speaker to this “you”? A friend? A rival? A lover? Are they competing for the same woman, or is the speaker herself shifting into the shape of the woman they both desire? This ambiguity feels intentional and heightens the tension — but occasionally the narrative becomes so diffuse that it risks losing the reader’s emotional thread. For example, the shift from direct address (“You set out to impress a girl”) to the confessional (“I thought I should run to you / Playing with your undeserving heart”) is compelling but sometimes underexplained. The stakes of the betrayal — who is betraying whom — can feel murky.
There are beautiful moments of internal rhyme and consonance — “laced up leather Chelseas clacking down the street” is a delicious line — but at times, the poem could benefit from a slight tightening. Some lines drift into the prosaic and dilute the tension: “We talk of languages and families / And then you asked me for a drink.” These lines could be made sharper, either by condensing or by finding more arresting language.
The ending circles back to the beginning beautifully. The repetition of the girl with sea blue eyes and the final lines — “I am falling fast asleep / You said you liked a girl in glasses and a buttoned shirt—” — show how the speaker is trapped in this echo, unable to break free from desire and resentment.
Overall, this poem succeeds as a fever dream of unrequited longing and confused identity. Its mood is compelling, its images memorable. With slight refinement — clarifying certain narrative links and pruning some excess — it could become even more haunting. As it stands, it’s a strong piece that rewards multiple readings and lingers in the mind like a half-remembered late-night conversation.
I agree with your observations. Granted, I majored in English in the 1970s—which meant a rich immersion in T.S. Eliot and Wallace Stevens— so my tastes and understanding may be out of date. In the lines you mention, “We talk of languages and families/And then you asked me for a drink”, perhaps the poet’s intent in shifting from present tense to past tense is to show the speaker reliving the moment and then coming back to a present “reality?”
Who the “you” is, who the “ I “ is, whether there are three or four altogether, when and where in time, just escapes me.
That is charming and delightful. I can't come close to writing anything of that caliber and style, but I can sure appreciate it!
👏👏👏 Vintage lovers is such a great poem! Very vivid prose!
I don't read much poetry -- i'm afraid i never really learned how, if you know what i mean. But i enjoyed this very much. Thanks for sharing.