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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