WHEN HERE I AM
VERY AT HOME
How come I will verge before I perish,
I want to ask. But knowing there's no answer,
I just continue walking - past Ad Hominem
Square, where the chess-players lie and storm,
where the radio is playing on a copper-topped
table, and the black man with the white-man
tan says it's all because of the CIA. He's got
a girl with him who looks at me and looks OK.
-
These things perplex. I wander willy-nilly. Past
the treble-arch and waistcoated lady and the
dog-park with the transvestite trio and their large
black poodle. Someone asks me if I want to buy,
and I say I already gave at the office. This is the
way own life goes. I should worry about Putin
and Netanyahu? For all of that, this very city
provides trashcans a'plenty where the headlines
seep out before the garbage-men come; and
here I am very at home.
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