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.