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2 O’Clock


ISSUE:  Autumn 1976

I woke up at two o’clock
In the train station at Trieste,
Blank sun and a man selling ices
From a wooden cart;
I saw a girl walking like you
Into a butcher shop,
My god I said in Italian
To a conductor eating his lunch,
That girl was my lover in California—
He thought I was drunk
And passed me his flask of wine.
When she came out
And crossed the street
And I saw that the eyes were wrong,
The mouth not full enough,
I thought, jesus, I’ll go to Venice today;
She carried meat in a paper bag
Wet on the outside with blood
And slid into a waiting car
With an old man who kissed her wrists.
I watched them drive around the corner,
Heard the conductor spit on the tracks
And shuffle off the platform.
Then I ripped up your letter.

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