Self-Portrait

Aaron Zeitlin

1929

When the cool, colorful, gentile Sundays come,
both sit—Valenti, the watchman from my courtyard
and his pock-marked, redmouthed, piggish old lady
back-to-back on a wooden bench.
Both of them gaze away a whole Sunday afternoon
and don’t get bored. They are realists.
And they do what? They stare silently, and relax.
They look at dogs, at a kid…
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