They've opened the coffee shop and
that guy just won't go home. He doesn't
know how to behave : cappuccino after
cappuccino, showing everyone his medals
but using only a mirror for the image
of whatever he once was. Any minute,
I expect something to happen; maybe
even a severe folk singer to fall out
of the wall. The kind they used
to make in 1964 : singing of
rights and riots, all that
Meanwhile, this saint I was talking
about first, now he's going on about
when he was the King of old Brooklyn.
I believe none of what he's saying.