Back In The Old Place

Thinking about past times in New York by Talking

about them reminds me of talking on the steps

we took to get where we are and our current moral view

which is centered around loose suspicion

that our friends for example only tolerate us because

of our mysterious lack of magic

and so actually hate us because of our power, which we do have.

So pretty soon it'll be Christmas, in about 6 months

& if we are lucky those friends will have been hit by trucks by then.

 

The tea in the white cup is either half-gone or

I am, in any case, soon you will come back up from

Christmas sitting on the steps, with the trucks roaring by

thinking, I am not that person, so why did I act like that?

Because I see one of my friends on a truck & he is talking

about his former friend, the enemy; and I see that I am that enemy &

I also see that the street is covered with fish because of a terrible accident -

No, I don't see that, I only see that I am that enemy, & I dig that,

it makes me feel like the street is covered with fish . . .

& the street is covered with fish, & they are my fish, those fish

— but it doesn't matter, along comes a real truck, there's a terrible

                    accident, & the street is covered with fish.

The name of the street is Pearl Street & it is crawling with worms.

Some of my friends come over, we have funny-tasting coffee

but it is not funny to be drowning.

 

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