by ray souster
Not another bite, not another cigarette,
Nor a final coffee from the shining coffee-urn before
The warmth steaming at the windows of the
where the Wurlitzer
Booms all night without a stop, where the onions are
between the buns.
Wrap yourself well in that cheap coat that holds back
the wind like a sieve,
You have a long way to go, and the streets are dark,
you may have to walk all night before you find
Another heart as lonely, so nearly mad with boredom,
so filled with such strength, such tenderness of love.