Lower Brattle, One AM
They built another story across the walk so
the moon carries up an hour later
on Professor Jodoin's terrarium, with the one
brick wall, where he's been flipping through
THE WINTER'S TALE since seven, drinking
Avila and mostly staring at that space
where they've been talking about a picture ...
THE SOPRANOS quiet for two hours,
the bedroom dark. The old shots won't do.
But if you could take a picture of the future,
like some shrine, the Virgin Mary with tomorrow's
newspaper. DREAMS ARE TOYS
YET FOR THIS ONCE, YEA, SUPERSTITIOUSLY,
I WILL BE SQUAR'D BY THIS. He runs
his hand along the bricks, chips a knuckle full
as I stagger past on my distracted run,
and the third cab tonight flies by toward Boston.