Common Market Poem by Donna Ialongo

Common Market



they stand. the eyeless dolls, at
State and Madison
perched for a crossing and waiting., ,
WALK...... now, fool.
the green-yellow monster, Archer Express,
is vomiting drab colored toys
whose keys are wound too tight,
who are parceling it to the lingerie sale
but never ask
'pardon me sir, but i'm looking for a
stained glass window - about 9x12'

the street grasps them,
one mirroring the other,
strangling potential, but
they walk on
to lunch at a dollar eighty seven
with an irish waitress
named goldburke

long low slum woman
clasp your snatchel
and be a child
turn to the east, and turn to the west, and turn to the -
turn to the east
and mix your out-sighs with the breath
of silver dollared water

(September 13,1965)

READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
Close
Error Success