There are scores of characters seen
from the third story window.
They litter the walks:
step after invisible step, past imperfections in the damp cement.
I wish I had their consent,
to interrupt their set,
to interject:
curiously, coolly, calmly,
to tear every costume to shreds,
to mend the script that's been
written on every bathroom wall,
every dorm room hall,
and in monopolized letters to all.
It wages on and on
like some cranking machine overseen by fashionable businessmen
and their thirsty paper money hearts.
But, there are times
when the walks are vacant and lonely
and the set is silent,
no acting for an hour or two.
They're getting their makeup done,
practicing their lines,
and warming their jaw muscles
for the next play of the day.
There are scores of characters seen
from the third story window.
Littering the walks,
and putting on plays.
All for my afternoon rest.
