FIGHTING THE
VACANCY TWICE
OVER
Take off your jacket and climb in the hole,
bring forth the books and the papers. Remember
the hermit who lived on the hill? He's gone now,
and his cabin's a ruin. Filth lives there now, like
flies on a pile - seditiously strong and sour the
smells. I remember all we used to do so well.
-
I brought my bicycle once to this hilltop, and
threw it off the cliff. I walked home thinking
that things would be better. When I arrived
to my own place, I saw it too was gone.
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