Cary Grant    

This is the height man
was supposed to attain. It's all
downhill from him. Those silhouettes
of monkeys, knuckles rising
off the ground, end
here: Cary Grant in the suit
he wears in North
by Northwest, a hat, a cigarette,
a suitcase, things
that civilize. The cleft
in his chin a keyhole, his eyes
now onyx, now still
water, moonlit. His hair so bright
we still know what brilliantined
means. We built studios
and cameras, spooled
film on heavy reels, preserved
him for the ages, the best
we'll ever be. When Audrey
Hepburn asks him, Do you know
what's wrong with you? she answers
for all of us, Nothing.