73

SANDBOX WITH RAZOR BLADES

At some point
In the festivities last night
(Quenepa hulls lining the floor
Of the pre-digital A train car)
I blacked out --
After being called Brett
After Eddie called me Brett
Half a dozen times,
Itching, or raring, or whatever it is
Mercury-poisoned Long Island bartenders
Feel with reference to the urge to fight
Which I imagine now -- having fallen asleep
On the E platform at Third Avenue
And woken up intact, my bags
And cash still on my person
(Person! shouts James) --
I imagine is like an Eskimo's vocabulary
For snow, though I know they are called Inuit
And that this idea about their words for precipitation
Has been discredited.