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He's Gone
I looked down the backstairs of the comedy club,
Among the spectators of "the big fight,"
Outside the entrances of each commuter hub
And at the revellers on carnival night.
I studied the faces boarding a yacht,
Exiting the restroom of a service station,
In cars as I sat in a parking lot
And in cotton fields of a mighty plantation.
I searched in back alleys in Queens,
Along vast stretches of California shores,
Shrimping piers in New Orleans
And the low glow of nighttime convenience stores.
But he's gone.
