There’s been an incident at 5th and 6th
And 73rd and 58th and Elm.
I see dead people everywhere, except
On S. Lipan and Penny Lane and Stout.
I don’t know why. Rellenos on the wind,
The sound of magic flutes, the frail red duff,
Oranges and lemons: still the bones pile up
Just above Congress Park, on Ruby Hill,
And where the Carpet Warehouse has been closed.
Come home tonight. I found some bottles of
Whatever could be bottled up. Not these,
However emptied out the scuffed-up rooms,
Annoyed to be anonymous. Here come
The incidents of Christmas Past passant.