I liked my little hole, Its window facing a brick wall. Next door there was a piano. A few evenings a month a crippled old man came to play "My Blue Heaven." Mostly, though, it was quiet. Each room with its spider in heavy overcoat Catching his fly with a web Of cigarette smoke and revery. So dark, I could not see my face in the shaving mirror. At 5 A.M. the sound of bare feet upstairs. The "Gypsy" fortuneteller, Whose storefront is on the corner, Going to pee after a night of love. Once, too, the sound of a child sobbing. So near it was, I thought For a moment, I was sobbing myself.
Added: 6 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 27 Mar 2017 2:36 AM | Viewed: 12147 times
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