One By One

Dark Siloette

 

The streetlamps of cities
leave me little joy,
I must confess:

I know daughters and wives
and the best of racy women.
I know the taste of whiskey
on the cool-marble benches
of parks. I know the taste
of black beans
when everything is poor.
And when the rain swells
in puddles beneath my feet,
I know
all my heart is poetry.

Darling …
I’m a wandering gentleman,
and from time to time—
I count each streetlamp
in some lonely city:

One by One.

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