A road can't be as sad as a shoe is sad
when a shoe can't read.
I can't read either.
...
Why is everything I do in my life like a boomerang?
I throw the paper airplane out the window
and the wind sends it back.
I spit against the wind.
...
I ran into an old time sailor, up on Market Street;
We had a cup of coffee, his last name was McLees;
He fought in the Pacific, on Portsmouth submarines;
I asked about the Squalus, this is what he told me.
...
1. The Enigma of Arrival
We are nude beneath our costumes
as in the false myths we have been forced
...
The fog peers in the windows, passes 'neath the lamps
Settles in the doorways and huddles from the damp
Slips inside the houses, rooms, the sleeper's bed and dreams
It rolls him over, turns him out into the shrouded street.
...