TWENTY-FOUR YEARS REVISTED BY MYSELF

for me & Dylan Thomas


as my dog
lifted his leg
to pee
I coughed
bringing up
smoker's sputum
which i quickly discharged
to the black street. i turned
away
from the obvious
habit, but not before
an icy ripple in my toe
forced me to kick-out
and shiver.

were you scared?
i'm here now
where you were then
and i'm scared.
your last line
you knew,
of course,
still left you
and me
with no choice except
a life time
of indecision.

before that "meat eating sun"
struts alongside me,
i'd like my name
to appear
in print,
as yours did.

Norman Savage
Coney Island, 1971