Two Men Walking Down the Street (poem)

Two Men Walking Down the Street.

One has the soul of a mongrel.

The other, a daffodil.

One cries in the gutter,

The other blooms through a crack in the sidewalk.

 

Two men walking down the street,

One is heading North,

The other South.

The moment they pass one another,

Is a moment registered infinitely by the eye.

 

Two men walking down the street.

One goes to Paris, France.

The other to Bowling Green, Kentucky.

They lead lives of two separable and distinct passions,

Yet the eye communicates with mystery and stirs the unknown.

 

Two men walking down the street,

One in one country,

The other in another universe.

They will always remember each other

For reasons they will never comprehend.

 

Crowded parties or lonesome apartments.

Dead ends or new beginnings — it doesn’t matter.

There always is, always has been,

and always will be,

Two men walking down the street.

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