Gosh where am I apparently crossing
some street called
Bobby Short Place
nothing but Italian shoe stores
and crap jewelry where's a goddamn
cafe I can hide in take a load off I'm
sweaty then suddenly I'm scuttling
under some gold
and black and I read The Carlyle so this
is where it is! A man in a suit (not
even sweating!) and grass-green
tie is eating olives all by
himself I can almost smell them as I
pass and I'm tempted to pat his
shoulder confer a wordless
blessing the rich being plenty poor as most
Twenty paces further on I spin
who knows why a quarter-turn and a
giant silver god is reclining and
(so it seems from just this spot
where I'm writing) diddling the crotch
of the giant silver goddess
who floats half above him ignored
totem of 980 Madison
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