MAKE THE COST
Substantial stuff, this can-held humanity;
breaking the pace when men are off running.
Nothing but music, everywhere - fifteen
different bands made of little boys. Choirs of
angels and voice inclinations - how come
there's no one stopping this. By the window,
a man plays the horn - alto sax, soprano sax,
I don't know. This food-line at St. Francis Xavier
is building - guys sucking cigarettes in jackets
too light; a woman, looking dead already,
now counting her bones, looking gaunt.
Walking the line, a young priest, with
smiles and words each-to-each.
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