My Alba

Now that I've wasted

five years in Manhattan

life decaying

talent a blank

talking disconnected

patient and mental

sliderule and number

machine on a desk

autographed triplicate

synopis and taxes

obedient prompt

poorly paid

stayed on the market

youth of my twenties

fainted in offices

wept on typewriters

deceived multitudes

in vast conspiracies

deodorant battleships

serious business industry

every six weeks whoever

drank my blood bank

innocent evil now

part of my system

five years unhappy labor

22 to 27 working

not a dime in the bank

to show for it anyway

dawn breaks it's only the sun

the East smokes O my bedroom

I am damned to Hell what

alarmclock is ringing