Time-Stone

Hallo, Metropolitan— Ubiquitous windows staring all ways, Red eye notching the darkness. No use to ogle that slip of a moon. This midnight the moon, Playing virgin after all her encounters, Will break another date with you. You fuss an awful lot, You flight of ledger books, Overrun with multiple ant-black figures Dancing on spindle legs An interminable can-can. But I'd rather... like the cats in the alley... count time By the silver whistle of a moonbeam Falling between my stoop-shouldered walls, Than all your tally of the sunsets, Metropolitan, ticking among stars.