John Lentini

Greasy Heads

 

So be on inside to see outside

Be such the miracle of windows

 

Through window pass and seemeth same

      that which flanks her mass

But changeth it that within I perceive

      as doth the sea to the swimming fish

What sees I seems not as is

      for this doth blureth

      and that doth cloudeth

 

Here sits I on the way to town

      my means be by this bus

Be my mirror this window as peereth I through dust

                                                                           through silt

                                                                           through grease

 

Head upon head

            shed upon shed

 

 

Who knows what before me hath found its lodging

                  upon this mirror

                  a head of man old?  young?

                  or grandma

’Tis through that history I perceive

                  with distortion, perversion, illusion

So gripeth I that they do not clean my window pure

Thy magnificent shore route is blurred, obscured . . .

                  and I angered

                  but must learn I to comprehend

Yet what history hath lived before

                  to make that as such and filtreth all that I see?

That, my friends, is a fact of life

The miracle of all that is

Life upon life

Life divided from life

                  by window of man made be

Yet life overwhelming all

Doth claimeth it—its own

Leaveth them their elements upon this shield

                  in desperate attempts to join