INCOMPLETE,
THE LEDGER BOOK
All those girls, at their coffee-froth tables,
with their whipped-top drinks and designs,
they sit about writing in ledgers and journals.
Whether about their climbs or their times,
I do not know. Whatever I surmise would
be probably wrong : they shot-putt, they
weight-lift, they run. Not really a story
to any of that. They are writing, then,
thoughts, of noblesse oblige? Or dreams
instead of loss and decay? Again and
again I don't know and can't say.
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