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March 8, 2008
Arms and a Man
Early, this fuzzy wet Saturday,
I walk snugly in the city,
Peer into vacant alleys
Where multiple slick tree limbs
Dance easily in the wind
Like Indian goddesses.
Underground, a poster
Imparts a golden Tara,
Like some tarantula diva,
Circling arachnid arms and a boon
In each multiplicative hand.
Outside again, countless
Cold fingers play fugues
On my skin. Umbrellas
Unfold like black bellows
Into whirling circles. Suddenly
A stranger juggling packages and bags
Emerges from the musical drizzle, asks
“Where’s Broadway?” I point east.
Off he scurries in the hard patter,
Far too many parcels for a mere two arms,
Making the ritual rounds of groceries,
Laundry, repeated sundry necessities
In a tyranny of endless errands.
Posted by Jane on March 8, 2008 4:14 PM


