HAMMENSTEIN
THE MARKER
A late-afternoon light tries coming through
the window : some solarium brightness which
never belonged. Outside the glass, an old Fulton
Street sign glowed. Where have all those guys I
remembered from long ago disappeared to?
Bartender, bring me two more.
-
A skid-boat platform was sliding along the glassy
water : East River attention to this or that. I hear
the sound of something, singing, but cannot place
the tune. Barkeep, bring me two more.
-
I'm so lazy I could sleep right here. But damn, I
love Lethargy, and her sister Laze. I could hold
them both, and kiss them too. A guy walks by
the doorway, looking in, he spies my eye and
waves. I wave right back - not wishing to miss
a thing, not one single item. Bartender,
bring me another.
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