THE GATE – Excerpt

Yes, it’s me, he said again; the caretaker lowered

            his eyes.

I, alone, shine my shoes, and my fingers get black or

brown from the polish, my face isn’t justified

or I talk to the retired civil servant

or to the traffic cop or the textile weaver

I search for the inexistent address; I insist it exists

in the city plans, I transcribe new streets

the university students pass with flags and a cone

            full of garbanzo beans

the clerk of the store moves his hands behind the five

            display window dolls,

he places a silver flower on the hair of the middle

            doll

uncle Stathis wipes his eyes with his fist

the crazy man takes out of his pocket birds and trains

two stork nests along with the chimney

six crafts with almonds and guitars. It was twilight

and a star behind the mountain waited for us to

            gaze at it.

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