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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420027" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Garbo Speaks</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I’d worked late each night that summer, <br>I had some free cash in Eighty Nine.<br>So, it was only natural<br>when I needed to unwind.<br>I’d grab a meal and have a glass<br>(or two) till final call<br>Then show up in the morning for<br>my stint at Broad and Wall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Blue bar at the Algonquin<br>was always my first choice.<br>Steve Ross was singing in the oak room, <br>I recall his lovely voice.<br>The bartender and the waiters<br>knew my wants without a word.<br>As I waited for my supper<br>a distinctive voice was heard.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even in her eighties, Garbo struck a<br>regal tone.<br>Despite cancer's indignities<br>She would have honored any throne.<br>.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She knew I’d recognized her, <br>though I never said her name.<br>I 'd been just a child when she<br>had her last brush with fame.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>She knew me from the brokerage house<br>Her account was with my boss.<br>We’d sometimes spoken on the phone<br>about a gain or loss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I asked if she would like a drink<br>when next the barkeep came.<br>She eyed the Bourbon in my glass<br>and said “I’ll have the same.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>We were two people, both alone, <br>She famous, me, obscure.<br>For me it was her solitude<br>that acted as a lure.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I knew she’d never married<br>though there were lovers and affairs.<br>It was as if the single life<br>was answer to her prayers.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“You know I never really said: <br>‘I want to be alone.’<br>Its just I knew I had the strength<br>to be out on my own.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She knew I had just lost my Dad, <br>The pain was very keen.<br>She said “I lost my Father back<br>when I was seventeen.”.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">“I appreciate your kindness...<br>It‘s going to take some time.”<br>“If you know where your heart lies, ”<br>She said, ” You’re going to be fine.”</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I paid the bill and we stepped out<br>into a warm and humid night.<br>I hailed a cab for her<br>and then we said our last good Night.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>I never saw her face again<br>or beheld those striking eyes.<br>It was just a few months later<br>We got word that Garbo died.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+F.+McCullagh">John F. McCullagh</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=420027" data-title="Garbo Speaks de John F. McCullagh" data-description="I’d worked late each night that summer, 
I had some free cash in Eighty Nine.
So, it was only natural
when I needed to unwind.
I’d grab a meal and have a glass
(or two) till final call
Then show up in the morning for
my stint at Broad and Wall..."></div>
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