In the Suburbs
There's no way out.
You were born to waste your life.
You were born to this middleclass life
As others before you
Were born to walk in procession
To the temple, singing.
Louis Simpson
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Poèmes
Summer Morning
There are whole blocks in New York
Where no one lives —
A district of small factories.
And there's a hotel; one morning
When I was there with a girl
We saw in the window opposite
Men and women working at their machines.
Now and then one looked up.
Toys, hardware — whatever they made,
It's been worn out.
I'm fifteen years older myself —
Bad years and good.
So I have spoiled my chances.
For what? Sheer laziness,
The thrill of an assignation,
My life that I hold in secret.
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