8293. I ONCE HAD

I ONCE HAD

Major domo in a headlock;

title to the big green car;

and a dayspring of roses

from somebody's house.

Now that's all gone. I am

left in a foyer of Hell,

drinking water from a

cup that is shaped like

a swan; no Leda, just

the swan. It is, all and

everywhere, just a

misapplication of an

idle thought.

-

Before too long, if my

plans hold out, I shall be

on the New York train.

There's not a promise of

anything good, and if there

is, I surely don't know

her name.

-

By tomorrow, too, there

will be, I know, a hundred

different motorcycles riding

out. Not for anything special,

just for riding out. Men with

funny names and shades.

Nothing even nearly nasty,

and certainly not homemade.

These are store-bought guys.

-

Jut the supposed marvelous

men. Like sailors on a

shipwrecked shore, or any

famed wanderers of yore,

looking back out at sea,

to wonder what for?

-

Before too long, if my

plans hold out, I shall be

on the New York train.

There's not a promise of

anything good, and if there

is, I surely don't know

her name.