Monday, December 12, 2011

3353. THESE ARE MOMENTS (Newark)

THESE ARE MOMENTS
(Newark)
Inside the Salvation Army Store, poor people were
buying glassware. Outside the doorway, just above, 
on the brown-stone rock trestle, a train slid slowly by.
Above that, and near, a take-off jet pierced the sky
while, above that, still, the daylight moon somewhat
stupidly stood watch. In jackets and gloves, someone
nearby stared; seeing nothing at all he hunched
away, thinking the same, small thoughts as ever
here before : that single, shingled roof in need of
more repair, the lamplight at the curb, broken
open and dangling on high. I tried to tell him
something, answer to his hunch, but he was
long already gone. A finished moment,
wordless before and now, wordless
after, all again, and gone.

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