Sometimes I loiter down Fox Cout, my neighborhood,
In a stream of consciousness ruminating,
What have I ever done, what will I do
In the remaining short time on earth.
My reverie is broken at times
As I think of the magic of Fox Ct.,
Its cute boxy row houses,
Standing silently in impeccable serenity.
I am reminded of the luminaries dwelling on it:
Rabinowitzs, Kaplans, Smiths, Warrens,
Wondering whether I am disturbing their privacies
With my unbounded ideas and uncouth personality.
The names of the beautiful women on the street flash,
Possibilities loom large,
But I am reminded of my acute diffidence and shyness,
But still enjoy the elixir of the untapped resource.
Suffern, New York, August 13, 2018
maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com
