and summer was a matter of years
and the sum of it was
the things you could feel behind what you could see

i wonder
what he was like in the summer of his ninth year
yearning for the prestige of the extra digit



mike the merchant marine from the san francisco local
old and worn
i didn't even look up when he sat next to me
and placed newspaper down between him and the bench
he asked a question i answered without my eyes
and i didn't look up until he mentioned his ship and the sea
eyes that had seen egypt
he gave me a piece of hash from alexandria
cut from a brick stamped with heiroglyphs

i think of my vanity
thinking so highly of myself
casting doubt on some out of time
with little pieces of the world to share
from a time that is gone