SECOND CAPRICCIO FOR
GOYA
I'm ti red o f working the ni ght shift.
T he da rk makes me superstitiou s.
It mi ght be a fri end app roaching;
It
mi gh t be a foe.
I evade them equall y!
We cross paths with the precision of ba ts.
I have become uncertain and suspicious.
Onl y by the hunch of instinct
can I tell who's smiling in the darkness,
and who's frowning.
I wish I could meet the sunrise fresh .
Maybe I'd blink a t first.
But I' d get accustomed .
Some so rt o f bird sin gs a t dawn , I hear;
a nightingale, or wha tever they call it.
Fo lks say it's p leasant!
