STACCATO
LUMINESENCE
This makes me sick : this leaves me cold.
All that back and forth for nothing.
The brownstone fronting St. Luke's Place
is toying with the sunlight; fading fast it
dips over Jersey's silly edge. I've been
everywhere ten thousand times. My
head hurts just from travel.
-
That guy, he's the icicle on the carpet -
where he lives there are five other men.
Each of them a dancer, fine and fair,
those sorts of guys you see in chorus
lines or Broadway plays. Why would,
really, anyone do that?
-
Here comes my yellow cab - it stirs the
pavement like a regal lion swooshing
along the path. I get in and crouch.
Oh, the guy behind the wheel seems
touchy. My goodness, I won't say
a word.
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