The God of Penn Station has next to no budget
And cannot afford much panoply. He gets catalogs
Offering to customize and sell entire pantheons
Which he seldom reads. Svevo, his assistant,
Carefully files them all against the unlikely day
When the God of Penn Station grows rich.
Since the Station never quite closes its god
Feels it would be improper in him to sleep.
Svevo sleeps for him though, and has his dreams
Writing down each one and sometimes repeating them
When the two of them and Fevrier, who does odd jobs,
Patrol the station around five in the morning.
“You dreamt your mother was a sewing machine;
She seemed happy and asked about you.
You dreamt you and the Gods of the Colosseum
Spent the night in a Roman karaoke bar
Where you sang Rodolfo’s last aria from La Boheme.”
“How was I?” “No Pavarotti, but not terrible.”