THE LONG LINE
I will die by the hands of these
jaundiced hundreds : the dreaded
folk with fangs for eyes and claws
for hands. The gentle girl I know
who comes forth, the tea-shop
wonder, the one with the lamp,
she will step out to placate me,
and sit at my table to smile.
This is a commercial evidence of
a real-true love. Something from
afar, like the blisters in a dream,
from dreaming hard work. I don't
ever want to leave; just rather take
my place in the long line of others.