JUST ONE OF.

TWO MEN IN NYC 1930S

It's just one of
Those things, Arkbord
Said, just one of

Those things. You should
Have seen the way
The people were back

Then. There was none
Of that life owes
Me a living

Kind of thing, none
Of those ideas
About all of

The people out
There being at
All equal, you

Just knew your place,
Knew where abouts
In the scheme of

Things just where you
Belonged. You heard
Said, he was one

Of the biggest
Liars this side
Of the Bronx, a

Philanderer,
Petty thief, a
Wife beater, a

Drunk, a two-bit
Singer in some
Sleazy club, who,

For want of some
Thing better to
Do, stole money

From the poor box
To pay for booze.
You know what? He

Said, I’ve met the
Best, met films stars,
Boxers, big shots,

Cute dames who slept
With me for the
Sheer thrill and I

Saw Joe Louis
Up close, almost
Shook his big hand.

He stopped. He looked
You in the eyes.
Swallowed his phlegm

And said: it’s all
Lies. He laughed, brought
Out his hipflask,

Swallowed a swig.
Should have seen your
Face boy, worth all

That to see your
Eyes light up like
Those in a pin

Ball machine when
You and the game
Get going. You

Nodded your head,
But didn’t smile
Or laugh or take

Offence or give
A dead duck’s poo
On its dying

Day. He shrugged his
Stout shoulders, sighed,
And walked away.