Out of the darkness of nothing
I came with eyes
to throw light on the infant’s way,
but by now all the trash is set like cement.
I see today for the first time
the Chevrolet Berlinetta 1979. This frightens me
because Berlin is divided, is the wretched city
naked and beautiful as an atom.

I see the national anthem sung for me
by an Italian tenor who saves me
the trouble of that thing about singing.
I see a policeman about to club me
and only my library card to defend myself with,
and by God it was enough.
I see a man younger than myself
whose fun is divided between deception,
humiliation and insults, who is Jewish
and fond of money. I see

too many children with power,
skewered frogs, decimated frogs,
disjointed frogs,
cats in cement overshoes,
split atoms,
and that poor beached shark
whose intestines were made plumb
and carpenter-correct by a vendor’s broom.

I saw you pitch that day graceful
as a great bullfighter become still.
After the game maybe you clowned
for the neighborhood kids till suppertime
or drove all the way to Wichita for a rare coin
as useless as it was extraordinary.