Harvard Square

by Hugh Fox

Harvard Square,
like in the subway
Spare Change,

spare
faces

spare
nations

finish college owing half a million,
house out there whispering "A million and
a half,

Blessed are the Poor for they Shall See Spare Change.

Getting Used To

by Hugh Fox

             1.

Getting used to the Cuban-facist waiter in our hotel
eat shop, the Colombians at the table next to me who
identify me as ("Debe ser Colombiano...o Argentino")
Columbian or Argentinian (for the 500th time in
the last twenty years), the charmante old Haitian woman
who takes care of our room, Ça va, ça va bien, chaque       
jour meilleur, The Gimme-Some-Moneyers, the seventh
floor back-of-the-hotel we’re in overlooking a concrete
courtyard perfect for suicide.

             2.

Getting used to Teavana tea stores and Papyrus paper
stores, Swarovski jewellers, Aldo Shoes, Yankee
Candy Company ... Sax ... like it was still soaring ...
or did it ever soar, getting used to being from Chicago,
the 1930’s Czech grandma Cicero and brogue Christian
Brothers of Ireland, and the nuns, all believing that
paradise was just around the next mein kampf unemployment
corridor, God with outstretched arms waiting to
welcome you to an eternity that seems to have vanished
along with (priesthood=sainthood) everything else.

Turning Off

by Hugh Fox

Turning off the socio-economic analyst for a while, sitting next to a          
bench with an ancient stone-marker
with The Newtowne Market           carved into it, J.F. Kennedy Street opposite
Drayton Hall, kitty-
corner from The Garage, in front of Peet's Coffee-Tea,
the Bombay Club off to my right, sparrows and pigeons
pecking away in front of me waiting for a little treat, after
the weather forecast of "heavy rain all day," the ground
covered with maple leaves, the sun squeezing out,
a currey-enhanced baby-breeze, Hindu, Chinese, Greek,
Korean, Russian, even some gringo students sauntering
by, one pair of old-fashioned brown tights, brown suede
booted legs walking by, two Lesbians holding hands, a
professor sitting next to me talking on the phone to his
son about how badly his students did on their mid-terms,
an enormous elephant-man walking by eating a seafood
salad wrap, another (Armenian?) doll walking by carrying
two cups of very capped, very hot coffee, as the springish
sun momentaries behind a cloud.