To Jack, or Perhaps Ben, Who Sits Outside Lulu’s Cafe on Pacific Avenue, and Whose Real Name We Do Not Know.
March 12th, 2010 | Category: Poetry |I hear you lost your eye in The War,
though that is like saying
you lost your eye playing Scrabble or
wrestling wild beasts in the Serengeti.
We, perched on wooden stools inside,
licking foam from four dollar nonfat Chais,
are far removed from any of “The Wars.”
It is easier for us to imagine you
bent over a battlefield of cardboard
scrutinizing letters.
So [...]
