On the street where you live

I sit on a bench

several stories high

stoned on Wagnerian heroines

(serene ecstasy)

slumped over bodies

we met on this street long ago

wandering, wondering:

how did they sweeten coffee at Auschwitz?

(a pause, then reverie)

I never had a mind for business

Holocaust operas disclaim grand agendas

making due with slumping budgets

(but I made a killing on Wall Street)

three stones, two stones, One Stone

a wrinkle in spacetime

saves nine

in a tone row

sur la place chacun passe