Asphalt and Agamemnon (Poem)

Again I walk the loneliest streets,

Stumbling over the rough pavement

Or perhaps my own grief.

I listen to the clangor

Of the railroad being rebuilt

And wonder if I could do that

With the worn out structure of my heart.

I shake my head at this and say no.

Now I’m drinking black coffee in a bare room,

Reading the savage words of Aeschylus

And occasionally pausing to look out the window

At the vast indifferent city night.

This is where I’ve always lived.

This is where I’ll die.