WILY, STRANGE
She's somehow become an autocrat,
a Horn and Hardart Automat, dispensing
whatever I want : small change and coffee,
cold drinks and dollars and scents. And all
this without reading the words on the menu.
From cents to scents, it never was as if any
of it was anything I'd ever wanted before:
That very cold Winter's day, the manner
in which we walked broadside to counter
the wind jostling us around, the biting,
bitter cold, the comfort, and the seats
behind the banner in that very warm
(by contrast) luncheonette.
She's somehow become an autocrat,
a Horn and Hardart Automat, dispensing
whatever I want : small change and coffee,
cold drinks and dollars and scents. And all
this without reading the words on the menu.
From cents to scents, it never was as if any
of it was anything I'd ever wanted before:
That very cold Winter's day, the manner
in which we walked broadside to counter
the wind jostling us around, the biting,
bitter cold, the comfort, and the seats
behind the banner in that very warm
(by contrast) luncheonette.
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