Seventh Avenue is
crowded tonight.
After ten days
here I hold my ground
When a
knuckle-walker
Tries to push past
my established spot.
The cool observant
Jerry,
Who, for a few
days, rejoiced
In the unconscious
semi-serious games
That soak the
crowded streets, is lost
My childish
defenses override my cool
And I see
extravagant losers,
Nattily dressed,
following this week's craze,
Asserting rights
to my space.
Time to recognize
I'll not be someone else.
I retain, in the
face of the crowd,
A piece of the
years spent in the Pacific,
Where time was
ample and the only threats where falling coconuts.
--
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