Dragons in the Gum Tree Grove

City Streets

“Those grimed stone streets where you go daily,
set them ajar when you walk there.
You are a sunshine child; go gaily
between the sad brick rows and whistle
some tune to wake the drunks on the stairs,
or pretend you walk a ruined castle,
and you, the archaeologist,
with camel's-hair-brush-puttering
have found a dead queen's uncle's fossil.”
You tell me, “City dust is dust;
for all your magic bantering,
it's dust.  I miss the flight of clouds,
the misted moon gone westering,
and quail strolling the uncurbed roads.”

Next Poem:  You Are Sad

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Updated last on:  2001/06/03