Another Summer
O'Hara admired
"the warm traffic"
(there was less of it then)–
that is my image of him
passing between
two parked cars
and patting the paintwork of one
in affectionate salutation
as if it were a person he already knew.
That was New York in sixty three.
Three more
to
go.
The month was July when we
lose all apprehension
in the warmth of the world,
our awareness elsewhere
than on personal destiny.
But the place awaited and the hour,
Fire Island offering its sands
to the leisurely attentions of the sea
and the warm traffic of another summer.
STEPHEN SANDY
Exotica
III I'
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der/.:, ori,s;il/l1/1y a Irir/.:-II1/':il/,R rard Xl1l11e,
II'IIS
illll('sled Il'itil esoleric
Il'isdo/1I ol/Iy ill IiiI' latl' 181i1 rel/tllry I!y
11
FrCllcil ocmltist, AI/toille de Cehelill,
Protestllllt cleric IIl1d Freellwsoll
Back when we smoked and followed the occu lt,
Gurus of angst, we'd turn the li ghts down low
And tell the Tarot pack. Joan was our nuncio
Of probable joy, the prophet
to
consult
For low-downs on the future. To exult
