August 23, 2008 10:00 PM
For Marvel-Man under a Scaffold on 42nd Street
The city looms dark and imposing.
The shops and the markets are closing.
Commuters rush past,
they're walking so fast --
They're tired and not up for nosing.
But a luminous smile lights your face,
while you sit on the ground with your case,
full of colors and wings and drawn battle-slings
of the Wondrous Comic Book Race.
More Writings:
« Thoughts at a Stuffy Hotel |
Home
| Gus »