BEREFT
Not your sad lungs alone : how
things change. No one dies any
longer from lung cancer? And
ulcers have disappeared as a
malady? How's all that be?
-
I used to stand at the corner of
Broadway and 8th and breath in
the brown air : the layers of dirt,
and none of it rare at all. The men
from the loading docks would be
cursing aloud while they worked,
with cigarettes and smoke in their
mouths. I shrugged.
-
For what did I know of any of that?
The 1967 air was foul, whether here,
or there. I stayed pretty low, and just
went with the flow; that nighttime,
and evening, air.
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