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It's not so much 
abstractions are available:
the lofty period of the mind
ending a sentence while the pain endures:
departures absences.


And you are still on the dock 
the smoke hasn't cleared in The Narrows 
At noon I sit in Jim's Place waiting for George
Who is mopping the stage up 
While two girls cry in the last row.


I think they got laid last night.

But who didn't? it was a spring night.

Probably George did too.


And now the ship has gone
beyond come sheets windows streets telephones and noises:
to where I cannot go 
not even a long distance swimmer like myself.

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