Wednesday, July 30, 2014

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.

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