TRAVELOGUE
This is sure a lame fracas : the
old doorway on Bedford where
I used to go. Number 91, the
doorway of Delmore Schwartz.
My what a world and what it
can do. I told no stories, and there
were no shiksas there, ever. They
never stood out : though just today
the two whores, by contrast, that
I saw along Frelinghuysen Ave.,
in Newark made me blanche.
There could be a nice pun there.
But there's none.
-
One was a crack-whore made
idle by time, and embittered
and cracked and obscure. I felt
she could hardly walk, let alone
do the promenade, the strut,
the old 'boulevard' amble.
-
The other at least had it all
together, and she made the
grade in her poor, busty way.
But it was OK. Entering
Elizabeth (that could be a
pun as well), headed south,
on Easy Street, the first thing
one comes across is an old,
small supermarket, from about
1965, that's now a small-church
funeral home. Surprising, that
bluster is, and outliving its role
in its own strange way.
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When it comes to being used,
we are all just whores.
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