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Bad Dreams
L°
In his rocker at an open window,
a glass of lilacs on the sill,
Walt enjoys the April noon.
The wind is right,
sweeping away the stink
of the fertilizer factory
and the slaughter house
across 328 Mickle Street.
Buffalo robe across his lap,
he sniffs the fresh, bright air...
And remembers walks
on such days as this with Pete.
Meandering walks, miles
uphill and down. . . To the river,
along the banks to the markets
in soldier-crowded streets.
Choosing this peach, that orange,
and eating with juices dripping,
standing in the sun, grinning.
Speaking hardly a word.
A sideways glance, a smile,
striding together over
the awakened earth.
Afterward, oysters and beer
until morning almost! Then
away-arms across shoulders
like the phrenologist's symbol:
Comrades Together Walking.
Sign of adhesive love,
of manly love.
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