TINY DISGUISE
Bring me your harness, your bit and your strap.
I can't get over it, where it's at - you do this for
money, that other fellow said. I've been to New
York high-rises before, but this is so different.
High above a city like this, I look down, only
to see the same things as ever, in a tiny disguise.
Have you ever read Frederick Seidel, a really
rich guy from a wealthy family, old now, dainty-old
and writing enormous, great poetry from a very
abstract perch - and rude and ribald and rowdy?
Just by looking, you really can't tell a thing. I glance
and the ceiling, and the walls start to sing. I'm
looking at you, and imagining. My goodness then,
Holly, what'd you put in this tea. It's making me
watch you make a fool of me. Strange bait,
grand enticement, but such a tiny disguise.
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