Serving With Gideon

Lyrics

Now I remember: in our town the druggist prescribed Coca-Cola mostly, in tapered glasses to us, and to the elevator man in a paper cup, so he could drink it elsewhere because he was black. And no I remember The Legion—gambling in the back room, and no women but girls, old boys who ran the town. They were generous, to their sons or the sons of friends. And of course I was almost one. I remember winter light closing its great blue fist slowly eastward along the street, and the dark then, deep as war, arced over a radio show called the thirties in the great old U.S.A. Look down, stars—I was almost one of the boys. My mother was folding her handkerchief; the library seethed and sparked; right and wrong arced; and carefully I walked with my cup toward the elevator man.