AND THE BARS ON THE MOON

My moon is square; I see it every night.

It never ebbs, and the only tides it makes
to ebb and flow are the tides of emotion
that flow and ebb within my chest.

At night I huddle in my single chair
in the robe I bought because it was so cold.

I light my pipe, my friend that comforts me
by gurgling cheerily and redly.

Every man, even I, must have one friend.

And sucking at my pipe for comfort
like a baby at the breast, I mix
my drink. And watch the bottle getting lower.

My drink is whiskey with plain water,
tap water and no ice, but it is good;
I am becoming used to it.

And then I sit there in my only chair
and stare out through the bareness of my window
at my moon, my moon with bars around it.

Staring at my moon, I think over what I have written
for the day. I am usually depressed;
but sometimes a sentence or paragraph
comes up to expectations.

It is a curious twist of Fate, this thing.

I had actually believed I could defeat
the Three Blind Sisters.

And come to find the very thing I had counted on

was the thing that had defeated me.

The war.

I thought I'd found a way to get around
this thing of living in a garret
cold and ugly, dreary and unhappy.

I had a pension;

And I had some money left to show
my five years in the army.

I got it gambling, before the war
made us peacetime soldiers heroes, instead of bums.

I had my discharge, which is honored now;

I thought I had it licked,
this freezing in a garret,
as all artists are supposed to do.

To my chagrin.

I found the very thing that gave me all the breaks
was the thing that put me in my garret.

I came here to the city,

the big city,

New York City;

and the only place I could find to live
was a backhall garret,

a corner room always cold.

But I am happy. Of course, the landlord peers
and wonders with suspicion who I am
and how I live, always smiling naturally.

But I am happy.

I can write all day, which is all I really want.

I don't mind hamburgers and coffee,
and I found a counterman, even in New York,
who didn't mind to talk to me, a stranger,

And so I sit and watch the square moon
with bars across it every night and think
how someday I will have a fine apartment
that is warm.

Perhaps I will even live in that building
where the moon's shines down.

It is nice to have a moon that never wanes,
although they always turn it out at ten o'clock.