T.S. Eliot Goes Underground
Crowded subway station, 57th
at 7th, Saroyan and I
waiting for St. Marks ride
to take us closer
to Ted. Short, scrawny guy,
army jacket, jeans,
hawks
“GET YOUR T.S. ELIOT POEMS
HERE
DIME-A-TIME!”
Rips pages from
old, cloth book.
sells two.
Someone says
“Who was he?”
Woman my age
yells
“ANY WORDS THERE
STILL TRUE?”
I holler back
“WERE THEY EVER?”
from In New York City Air. Copyright © James Humphrey Trust
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