Thursday, May 28, 2015

On a Bench in Washington Square

What has the world got to do with you?
What is your job in the world?
You sit in your hot late-May city to view
a voluptuous chaos too hurled

at itself to be taken in, more than a touch –
except by a new crop of twenty-year-olds
for whom nothing, it seems, is too much.
You glimpse a bare torso, soft folds

of worn shorts: a beautiful boy on a bike.
You haven’t a question to answer or ask –
there’s nothing you can’t say you like.
Put up with that: perhaps that’s the task.


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