Monday, February 24, 2014

5108. SENT THE WORLD OVER

SENT THE WORLD OVER
Like little rich kids keeping company, paring the
world between slices of apple and pear, they're
walking all over the land. Every town with a youth
hostel keeps a few. The slender girl from France,
eating Kix with her hand. The mustachioed guy from
Ankara, looking for the stars and stripes. I never talk,
just let them do it all. They like to find things : 'where this
Ellis Island?' 'How to find the Justice Keep I read of?'
I don't always know the answer  -  just blaming the
language works. They go away. I tell them I'm only
a lowly letter-carrier and can do them no more.
'Even here, in America, there are limits, yes, and
places which I cannot go.'

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