6239. OLD MAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT?

OLD MAN, WHAT 

OF THE NIGHT?

Every different thing : Raritan Bay and

Suzanne Signorelli  -  every name I ever 

knew. Together, there are birds flying 

from the harbor. A few boats, and that

fireboat squadron from across the bay,

just seem to all sit in place.

-

Nothing at all like real life : no virgin suicides

to be found; there aren't any here, and they're

all too happy. Just being. just to live. I want

whatever they wish having. Together, again.

-

And then the Douglas girls, walking down

the New Brunswick hill, manage to look as

young as ten. How's that again? At 199 New

Street, a long, long time ago, I spent many

a night just watching the trains, when the 

dairy was across the street. Little trucks,

loading all night. Out at 5am.

-

Then, at the dead-end of the lane, the

railroad's very solid stone wall. Old man,

old man, tell me, please, what of all this?