To The Man Sleeping on Nicolson Square
there is a man asleep in the square
and
his arms and legs are spread like a star
and
his face stretches toward the sky,
like he's lying in the gutter.
there are two old men sat on the bench.
white haired and wheezy-voiced,
they stare at the sleeping man.
they don't understand him.
i understand you,
dreaming man. i understand your
star-shaped limbs and the smile
that ruffles your lips like a breeze. i
understand
your screwed-shut eyes and your soft, even
breathing.
this city.
this city,
this city will wear you out.
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