LOOSE THE TIE-DOWNS
I walk through this town with my
guns held high. There's a New York
City bastard on every corner I see.
The Paki guy is washing blood off the
front of his taxi. Hell yeah, I should ask,
but I won't. He'll just get mad again.
There's a loosened lock on Patchin Place;
I'm thinking I can get in - Backpedaler
Joe and me, that John Reed bastard too.
Tuesday means nothing in the notebook
of the dead. My last story was a waltz,
but in a tango-two-step time.
oh e. e. cummings, why?