Don’t bother a bit, you are only a dream you are having, And if when you wake your symptoms are not relieved, That is only because you harbor a morbid craving For belief in the old delusion in which you have always believed.
The hunchback on the corner, with gum and shoelaces, Has his own wisdom and pleasures, and may not be lured To divulge them to you, for he has merely endured Your appeal for his sympathy and your kind purchases;
Aging women mourn while they go to market, buy fish, figs, tomatoes, enough today to feed the wolf asleep underneath the table who wakes from what dream?