Trousers Creased by History
Trousers creased by history-
old man, frequent of the New York Times,
cropped, captioned, rendered black and white,
his flights connect in Germany.
He drank cognac before the war.
An easy kind of love it is,
collects the fetish of his days-
wine, music, a snapshot at the pedestal;
the sad, mingled garden words.
Until we say,
who is this man of limousines?
Alone,
in the summer house,
pacing halls,
fingertips graze
shade to light,
light to shade.
He opens, closes dresser drawers,
lined with yellowed pages
of the New York Times.