POEM

I sometimes stand
on street corners
missing my chance
to walk
lost
between lights
in thought of tail pipes
and fine,
rich,
women. two,
three hours
on a nice day--
walk--
don't walk, walk--
don't walk, walk--
I'm in a limo
with a tall
scotch and "what would you like to do tonight,
dear?"
"ah, let it unfold, let it unfold,"
(she loves me
for cute phrases like that).

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 1976