MINTED AND SOUND
My Pierce Arrow broke the barrier; triple-somersaulted
through the landings of time; driveway paved with gold,
like El Dorado was promised. We moved it all from
center-stage. Children took to the landings and sang
with those high, children voices. The dim-light
charade, the fusillade of Fifth Avenue's best.
Hereafter, every mention of another's name would
cause me grief. I was beside myself with sorrow.
(There are no crickets in this night air, and
all the darkness hereabouts is quiet).