289. MY SOLE SALVATION

MY SOLE SALVATION
My sole salvation was in waiting at the station -
for you, or for any of the others coming by.
Those carrying the cross of their habits or wares,
those lugging bracelets of charms and trinkets,
those with amulets of despair held clenched in their
leering teeth. When the weather came, no matter what,
it seemed Winter again : that low sky, dark and braying,
falling down with the skittering snow and the spatter
of rain; the rim of an icicle on the ledge of a drain.
-
The sound was made of all music gone bad.
The hungry hustings - that place where they
put mad men - was filled to its capacity with
both scoundrels and their fools. My sole salvation,
other than in watching you, was in walking away,
in a gait not recognizable as rushed - a
Chaplinesque of my own, a slow shuffle,
with an innocent whistle to throw people off.