It was at Kitzbuhel, not Gstaad
where I saw Polanski--up close--
in a skislope cafeteria line, red snowsuit size small,
sliding slowly along the rails
a tray of wiener schnitzel mit pommes und ketchup
Like Everybody Else.
He had his two young children with him.
Like Everybody Else.
I wanted to say, "Hey, nice work on 'Chinatown'"
but didn't. As usual, faced with a celebrity icon, I fell silent.
Now I remember and think:
Do we forgive a man a heinous crime
because of his art, or because
his life has been filled with tragedy
or because he only did what everybody else
was doing in Jack and Anjelica's Casa California
or because an asshole judge lied to him
or because the French crypto-intelligentsia
says it must be so?
Maybe. But probably not.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
roman holiday
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