ONE MEADOW FAWN
The traffic to Rahway was nothing
at all; it was everywhere else that
was killer. Some new demolition;
some old recognition. The tractors,
the cars, and the fawn on the lawn.
-
Nearby, at the siding, a hundred sure
people milled around : the flea market
walk-through sensation : detergents,
toys, socks, sweaters and persuasion.
Long talks about nothing at all.
-
At the other end of this Rumpelstiltskin
field, I see the black guy in his pork-fry
truck. He sets about courageously : taters
and chitlins and pulled-pork lunches. He
makes out pretty good in the open-air char.
-
I wish the whole world could be like this :
the still-open field, the wide-open light,
cars passing, the prison dome across the
fence, and DOC vans, just waiting. Don't
nobody move, OK. You're all lifers here.
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