ARTEMIS
Mr. Bennington, Harold Coyne,
and the Superintendent Mike all
stood in the basement. I couldn't
hear, but they were in conversation
near the water heaters, pointing.
Too much to say about everything.
-
Nearby, in Bayonne's harbor, tugboats
strolled on the Kill Van Kull that body
of think water that still slices my heart.
The teel frame of the arched bridge threw
its shadowed fingers across the scene.
-
How odd it seemed that in Bayonne's
old oily pastures the sun went down,
dreamily and strange, like a British
evening's Turner scene. Churchill
stubble in the air, with cigar ash
falling there.
-
I turned about, again and again, to
remember all I'd seen. I was born
right there, and there had to be a key.
My mystery of life had started here.
Kids on the swings. Welfare apartments
and Italian grocers. Back to my motorcycle
again I went, and lit out of there with a
Milwaukee roar.
-
Mr. Bennington, Harold Coyne, and the
Superintendent, Mike, kept talking on
and on. So little changes, so little changes,
and then it is just all gone.
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