Saturday, November 13, 2004

I ALWAYS CRY AT MARATHONS

There is a little Mexican
Boy handing out his Halloween
Candy to strangers

Running down 4th Avenue
Sun slanting against his face
Like the middle of the letter

N, I have counted eight
Men named Hans and one
Named Fons, which

I’m guessing rhymes
Though it’s difficult to think
Through while choking back tears

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