SHANKER, NY
Many are the offspring of such delight and aim :
the differing stars align, the old hills are groaning.
I walk along this drifted stream, watching train cars
and a bulldozer snack in the trees; an old fence sags,
graffiti'd with words of no sense 'Lackadaisical songs
sound O long DYR.' Across from all this, in the old
house now a gallery, a group of little kids are held
in a party; birthday streamers and balloons out
the front door while the mothers watch
and others arrive. The train rolls away.
-
Dispatched like gravy from a ladle, the people
who have come off the train walk their way
across pavement; oblivious to all else
around them, they enter the small
town as one, knowing little of
what they see or where
they are.
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