I too have been here with my gay companions—
But I do not like it.
For I love my companions with an inexpressible passion—
I love them better
Elsewhere.
This is a place
Of desolation—
Of those who do not love
Or honor one another—
A purgatory, a hall
That is entrance to the Pit,
Whither many a one
Will go from here.
Now I will rise,
And taking with me the volume
Of George Santayana, on the back of which
I have been writing,—
Taking my black lacquer stick
That is now almost famous,—
I will pay the check,
Forgetting not the waiter,
And hie me to a friend, if I can find him;
Or failing that,
I will go home
And in the awed grey dawnlight
Read from Santayana’s “The Life of Reason”
In five noble volumes.
For this is a place of madness,
And this city is doomed.