Carousing cold sidewalks,
three pigeons—
mottled, sticky with light
and filth of greenish shadow—bob and shudder
to be perceived,
projected, reinvented! But
resist. For images
are hardly so pure
to speak of as their number. And truth—it is dull
and low
and uninteresting cold—which you know
will come to ruin
these old sidewalks
long-
before they've had a chance to.
