THIS ANTEDILUVIAN
POST YOU KNOW
POST YOU KNOW
The one with the moustache says 'Jeez'. It went something
like that anyway - all Thrace was lost, Sparta and Athens
were suburbs, the man selling medicines from the elixir
tent had been taken away, and the only dogs left were the
dead ones wailing. And then on Broadway and 46th I saw
a very beautiful girl - she was gruff but sainted, and she
smiled at me. A glorious moment ensued, and just as
quickly passed. She went into Conde Nast. Way on
high and up overhead, some jet stream curled behind
its metal warrior - a million transactions high in the
sky. Air travel looks like nothing much from down here.
I'm never the one to tell, or know - the stories always
come from somewhere else. Not for nothing is the
leave-taking always left for the end, and parting
is such sweet sorrow.
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