Putting my lenses in, I see No Man’s Land in the mirror—
Which makes me think of times in Tokyo so long ago 
When, on some subway station platform, in a crowd,

I was walking down Roupell Street,
Avoiding all the drunks.
I live in a little house 

Snow is falling on Broadway 
Through weeping willows of fog.
I know that my Redeemer liveth  

You’re born that way—or else you’re not.
It’s snowing—or else it’s hot.
It’s like the strangeness, that’s also natural,

You wait forever till you can’t wait any longer—
And then you’re born.
Somebody is pointing something out

I had a stroke and I’m not me.
I’ve been disfigured horribly.
Little did you know that I

I’m from St. Louis and Budweiser.
I’m from the Seidel Coal and Coke Company and the Mississippi.
I’m from the old streets near Forest Park,

I’m going out for a stroll and a bite and won’t take myself with me.
Look after me while I’m gone, will you.
Outside the bleary windows is my sunny city.

Suddenly I’m ready to eat the world,
Starting with the food on my plate.
The waiter asks if everything’s all right.

When even getting a haircut seems too much,
And trimming your toenails and fingernails takes too much strength,
When more than you have is what’s required,