UNION SQUARE, 1969 OR SO

Three gods sharing a meal in a dim cafe
Where the waiters have been dead for years
But still work, because the tips are good.
It's grown late but the gods have just
Opened another bottle. One gestures
For the headwaiter to join them.
He takes off his apron, puts on slippers
Sends the busboy for the jeweled crown
Hanging on a nail in the kitchen.

SINCE AESRED ASKED

My father never threw a key away

Long after the locks were gone

The keys remained, safe in drawers,

Deep in pockets of old clothes, in jam jars

Mixed in with miscellaneous nails

And screws and bolts and bits of wire.