Walking Home At Night
Walking home at night reaching my own block I saw the Port Authority Building hovering over the old ghetto side of the street I tenement in company with obscure Bartlebys and Judes, cadaverous men, shrouded men, soft white eshed failures creeping in and out of rooms like myself. Remembering my attic, I reached my hands to my head and hissed, “Oh, God how horrible!”
New York, December 1951
Feel free to be first to leave comment.