1058. THIS AIN'T PARIS

THIS AIN'T PARIS
Or at least not anymore since the
benches are smaller and the tables
are gone. Things are crimped now
like Delmore Schwartz. Sitting back
like this, two books in each hand,
I still try to settle your wandering
corpse. Delmore. Del More.
Delmore Schwartz.
-
What was it your friends called you?
Del? Those you had who stayed anyway;
the rest went straight to Hell. No, well,
maybe. This ain't Paris, but neither yet Hell.