The young man beneath the jacaranda walked home
finally because he had hunger.
Walnuts still fell each spring in the school yard.
The vicar ordered new stones for the cathedral.
The sewage-flooded shores
of Southern California
were swept by children
who wanted to cure the sea.
Seven hours ago, a woman
sat in the dark, watching
a wedding and a funeral,
lovers everywhere rose from bed --
some of them wept; some devoured
bits of their dreams in windows
that faced the sea; some cursed
the dividing hour between
their toil and their taking-away,
lit a cigarette and drug
in smoke to kill time.