EVERMORE
It wasn't just the orange juice and the swagger,
the wreath which was hanging from the ceiling
to call forth a seasonal cluster of already-early
wishes; it was me. This is, after all, the porter
said, 'The Americana Lunch Room' and I don't
even eat. It's not some temporary thing, mind
you, I've always been quite partial to starvation,
especially here in a place like this : ten-ton bagels
the size of rams, and three-deck sandwiches which
are larger than the land. What is all this?
-
I remember being a boy, and sitting in the yard,
just gazing and - most probably - doing my
most stupid cowboy dreams. Suddenly, above
my head, a racket - 30 or so geese, swarmingly
noisy, in a V-formation, swimming the air on
their own way to another land. God, how I
wished that I could fly right then.
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