ESTO 22

The dead man is still here

I am 10

His sodden, oil-soaked clothing is a man’s

He lays upon the concrete next to the small station-building

In sight is the fire boat

Beyond the river

It is a sodden afternoon

I am alone

+

The East River

I lead my life mostly alone

The man is most definitely dead

No one around

I stand

March cold in transit toward the evening darkening

+

A man appears

I learn they pulled him from the River

Called East River

I do not want be standing there

The man suggests

He leaves

I stand

I look at the dead man

+

I have no clairvoyant powers

No medium abilities

I do not remember heaven

How did he get into the water

Did someone throw him in

Or did he do this on his own

Did he fall

+

He is still there when I repair

To supper at the 86th Street Horn & Hardart

There it is with its endless doors

You opened for your edibles

+

I am a thief of childhood

Not extravagant

No

Practical

To live as I do costs

Having enough matters

To buy meals

To pay for movies

I mostly walk

But still

These sorts of things

+

To make ends meet I purloin coins at home

I know the smell of open drawers

I burrow there and feel

I know the congeries of many pocket books

The pennies, nickels, dimes which I remove

I once took a collection

I changed it to funds I was familiar with

At the Corn Exchange Bank

By the bus stop at 86st at York

“

I lost no sleep

I did things with my parents

Rare, special, odd, and strange

+

I felt no guilt

Years later I confessed

There was no scene

+

I did not add in shop-lifting

Done mainly for a thrill

At Herbies

On Columbus Avenue

Coming home from school

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But then there came some vandalism

More serious

Disturbing

An obvious wisdom now surfaces

Concerning families of Wall Street lawyers

Neglect tells

I was compatible with it

For the most part

+

all have rights to lead the lives we choose

We do what’s necessary

At every age

I was not sad

I was not filled with joy

I shall say more anon