The air is full of planes

And cooking odors.

The prosperous roasts

Are grilling in back yards.

Black and white youth are wandering

Hand in hand

Where lustful matrons and

Corporation lawyers

Soft-buttocked share holders

And bland neurotics

Watch shamefully the

Shameless tribe of sparrows

Holding high intercourse

In seed-crammed gutters.

The rich cry out in pain

The poor in anger.

Meanwhile I do the thing

That I am doing

Placing one joyful foot

Ahead of the other

Next: Shall this frail body be the bridge