BY CANDLELIGHT

As I slouch towards Babylon to be born
A very old car pulls up next to me
The driver leaning out the window shouts  

"Not Babylon, You damned fool! Bethlehem!

Slouch towards Bethlehem!"
I ignore him. What can it matter if I am born
In New York or Pennsylvania? Besides,
The roads are filled with rough beasts these days;
There's no way of telling us apart.