5633. THE NORTHERN DISPENSARY

THE NORTHERN DISPENSARY

On the comfort of this house I am reading Poe.

Annabelle Lee, Cask of Amontillado, Purloined

Letter. No mystery. Like the old drunk days of

then, we walked the dazed street messaging only

each other only with leers and stares. And oh, 

Mr. Poe, it is so often over now but I feel as if 

I am there. You know they've torn your house

down now, the New York one by the 

firehouse on West 4th. All gone.

I slept a bum's sleep last night  -

a Summer night outside the old

Northern Dispensary where

you once were.