Thursday, August 7, 2014

5655. GOING BACK

GOING BACK
And every word is meant : I'm going back,
leaving this crate, chucking these jewels and
running the spate. There's too much left to do and
no doing of it. Lost time, not found again, is not to
be my bugbear. I willow the wait, wanting the gait.
Walk me off, oh muscle ache : of the mind, of the
shatter, of the places that are no more. Thirty small
stores in a bleeding row  -  each one owned by a
Lebanese electronics merchant soon to go.
-
In 1964, that was  -  to my view of the world, a thirteen 
year old kid  -  what was coming down was coming down:
Within five years everything was gone, torn down for
Yamasaki's World Trade Center; which in its own
way, was torn down years later by almost the same
marauding crew. I find irony where I do. I still
can't believe the same.
-
My mind holds an errant pencil now : an old man
sinking into rage. Something to show, for nothing.

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