5045. AT THE ALCHEMY AND THE WALKER

AT THE ALCHEMY 

AND THE WALKER

At either end of this blanched tale I could not live at all.

35 W15th or not, we take a more few steps towards 

dodging light and land. I soon will want for nothing at all.

They will write my name in lights : foxglove and cirrus 

clouds, meander balustrades and Pomander Walk.

Twenty years ago, I would have been the blind man

circuiting the street with a bottle and a hunk of gin in

a wrap of cheese and bad clothing. Thirty years ago,

I would have been the man with the knife to kill you

with, for a wallet, a few cards, a watch and a ring,

and  -  perhaps  -  if time allowed, your daughter

or your wife. Things were like that then, and

crime was rife. Now they set clocks by the

mantlepiece marble, the gay men walk 

two by two in their clutches, and 

nowhere now more is seen

nothing but money.