Connecting Nothing To Nothing

The monkey too tired now To dance And feeling stupid In its tiny human clothes Kips on top of The barrel organ As if the fading day had faded Back to a forgotten day At the turn of the century I almost expecting to see Toffs in top hats & ladies in luscious dresses Canes & crinolines perambulating by Or to open a paper and see It is 1863. Time is see through now And dates mean nothing. Children’s voices run in & out of time ...trying to catch... “it! ” The barrel organ man looking a lot like Toulouse La Trec stares out into empty space not the least interested in customers just doomed to turn the wheel that stains the evening’s sunset with everything from Abba to Verdi. Poked awake The monkey jumps up He too doomed To dance his nothingness. Children’s voices run off into bedtimes & dreams. Rotterdam is erased & so am I a ghost in this dusk trying to read the last page of Knut Hamsun’s HUNGER As little lights In little houses Come on one after the other Little patches of yellow Glowing with human warmth I sit among The children’s swings & sing “Mamma Mia... ...here I go again! ”