First,
the lost guy says, “At last,
a
street I recognize.”
Then he asks, “Are you
who I’ve come to see?”
“It’s
not that I have to be,” I say,
“We’re doing things
differently now.”
Inventing
the chair, women used colors
men were afraid
of.
It
worked.
Priapus dressed up,
before he sat down.
I
could see that the kids were busy,
out
in the garden, weeding,
so I said, “Alright,
let’s got for a walk.”
We
went around the corner.
“To
fit me for a suit,” he said,
“We’ll measure this
little world.”
“Then
we can describe it,” I said,
“of my own making, but another’s
impulse.”
He
smiled.
“You’ve
rendered it well,” he said,
“especially my fondness for light;
soon we will part the black flames
on its horizon.”
No comments:
Post a Comment