FOR NOW
For now the parting is such sweet
sorrow and the land's end is near us.
The frightful Chinese fellow is sweeping
the sidewalk once more - I notice he is
singing a weary tune. Something mournful,
like old days in his Hanching Province mind.
I never notice animals in places like this -
not the pealing whistle of so much as a bird.
Dogs and cats, forget it. Only the old, old bell
on the Mariner's Church insists on staying
alive - and no one from then would recognize
the now, so it's little difference anyway
-
I sit and order rice and tea. In my favorite
moments, that's all what I'm about; but then
two yapping Jews come in, lower eastside
people with dead minds for homes, and they
haven't shut up yet - all that rising crap about
their little world : how many of this and how
much for that. Does not anything ever change?
-
In sequence now, behind them, come the tattoo'd
kids, those reliquaries of tears and doubt. The girl's
an obvious punk, bragging already about blowing her
guy, while the one guy in their little crowd looks like
he does all the others. It's a maddening world and
uncertain of end. What clothes are worn now
to cover up only the true and the real? I
want to know, but I'll never find out.
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