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My Buddy
my buddy, out on the train tracks
he is a friend somehow
I don't know how
we used to spend
(we used to spend) our time together
that is a reason to be friends
we used to spend our time together
the women of the street bring their carts to the center of town
the clatter, the mouth
the bark of an old market
bare fruit
my friend he strolls about for the ripest one
the taste on his tongue
all the pleasures of the earth
stop and ask him what he wants
he can't tell you, but
he can hold you like a scale
the station is an empty hall is an empty ride
I call it mine
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the nose remembers
the smell of old graffiti
the end of conversations
the waiting in silence
and my buddy, out on the train tracks
he is smiling back
through the window of an old passing subway car
I beckon him and he tips his brow
as if to say somehow he remembers too
stop and ask him what he wants
he can't tell you, but
I see the ribbon on his sleave
and we look the same
so we're going round again
we are laughing upset
we are moving the halls with colorful figures
and stray dogs
and movie light flickers
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