Just once I knew what life was for.
In Boston, quite suddenly,
I understood;walked there along the Charles River,watched the lights copying themselves,all neoned and strobe-hearted, openingtheir mouths as wide as opera singers;counted the stars, my little campaigners,my scar daisies, and knew that I walked my loveon the night green side of it and criedmy heart to the eastbound cars and criedmy heart to the westbound cars and tookmy truth across a small humped bridgeand hurried my truth, the charm of it, homeand hoarded these constants into morningonly to find them gone.
