208th Chorus
men have been sitting
in waiting rooms
in the night bloated
with food and alcohol
waiting waiting waiting
as though the city existed not.
They are so old.
They think all alike.
I’ve seen them die in chairs
Quietly in cities they never planned.
Seen them sing in saloons
For muffled uproars.
Seen men in coffee houses
Shoot the opium cup
With Greeks of Brotherhood.
Aztec Pulque Distributors
Rembrandtian city committees
And unions of Masons –
Shoot the sperm cup to me, Jim,
These partitioned Anglo Spanese
Singing sneerers perturbing
You in the background
Are your father’s kindly
buriers
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