CREME DE MENTHE
Here I stand. I am maze for the cable,
chow for the chowder. Farther afield than
any star, I am reading the ancient lines of
the sky, all those things which still live.
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It is so easy to get excited and remain that
way. Five people are standing there, on an
open lawn, in hot sun, holding signs to
protect their neighborhood. The infraction?
Five homes to come down so an apartment
monstrosity can be built instead. No. No. This
cannot stand. the Jew of Lucre, back again.
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I have marched to Montgomery, I have fallen
in St. Louis, I have been punched out in New
York City. Any day, like this, it's a wonder I'm
still alive : I take the greens from the blender
glass and drink it down, all. The bitter juice
coats my tongue, burns yet my throat.
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