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peter leon
Old Napoleon On The Midnight Subway
The Clock in My Heart Reminds Me My Life Is Sorely Limited.
I Sit Down Next To The Mental Hospital Napoleon.
With A Bag of Fresh Donuts And An Old Bottle of New York City Rain.
The Ailing Man Is Dressed In 18th Century French Ambassador Clothes.
Drooling On The Subway Life.
A Notebook With Journal Information In His Hand.
He Looks Like He Has Just Been Defeated At Waterloo.
A Used Pack of Cigarettes In His Breast Pocket.
A Hospital Wrist Band Packed With Information.
He Snores To The Sound of The New York City Subway.
A Stained White Cotton Handkerchief In The Other Hand.
And I...I Am The Sewerman of Old French Medicines.
I Reach Out To Heal This Poor Man.
Free Him From Morning Star Insomnia.
From A Cheap Hotel Early Morning Reincarnation.
Upon The Permanent Midnight Subway He Is Doomed.
I Take The Lost Book of The Prophets With A Photo As A Marker.
Just A Snap Shot of The Lost Continent of Atlantis.
He Has A Bottle of Sparrow Nest Wine.
He Has An Old Newspaper With A Front Page Photo of President Kennedy On A Dallas Afternoon.
And A First Grade Speller With Mucous On The Closed Pages.
Where Daylight Is Just A Very Old Memory.
He Is The Emperor of The Silent Subways.
Somewhere In The Back of The New York City Tunnels Is A Derelict Saturday.
Afternoon Herbal Odor of His Brain.
Somewhere In The Centuries of Drugstores He Gets A Fresh Bottle of Morning Wine.
The Blindfolded Black Raven Is His Memory.
As The Naked Soldiers Fall To The Lost Afternoon of Waterloo.
As He Looses His Grip On The Drugstore Empire.
The Sabbatical Tissue of His Radio Brain.
An Old Dog By His Feet.
The Rising Black Smoke of His Major Defeat Strains His Eyes.
Lost Napoleon Needs The Sensitive Hand of A Masturbating Undertaker.
But The Rails of The Subway Tunnels Are An Unforgiving Journey For The Shining Black Leather of This Saturday Afternoon Napoleon And His Late Morning Boots.
And I Sit There With A Folded Newspaper And An Old Radio My Father Bought For Me Many Subway Rides Ago.
And Inevitably The Old Emperor Falls Over Dead At The Last Stop In The Electrical
Cobwebs of A Mischievous Child’s Subway Station.
Now Considered For A Small Part In The Reincarnation of The Christ.
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