WHEN THE MAN
COMES RUNNING DOWN
They are playing some crappy music in the anteroom.
Not of Hell, but it might as well be. I'm not charmed.
The public blossom that this is supposed to be makes
me ill. My eyes have an aura. My body does not.
-
I pass by the architecture that makes up my charm :
the Seagrams Building on one side of Park, and
Lever House on the other - one or either of them
would do for this dated dream. When men had cars
with nothing but horns; when women wore coats
and feathered hats. It is all now a passing glimmer.
-
The priest or whatever from St. Bart's - right there
along the way - skips willfully by. He makes the
sign of the cross by Park Plaza, where I am
waiting for the light to change.
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