Satellite

I walked in

dressed in

anonymity

to wait in line for a

small coffee,

room for cream”, and

to sit at the table

by the window. The

shop was filled with

old men in reading glasses

and young women in

running shoes. What might

Cambridge be doing with its

young men and old women

at six-thirty in the morning?

Massachusetts Avenue flowed by

into Harvard square, into a

red brick way station where

the future is being

calculated four years at a time.

Out on the sidewalk sat a

German Shepherd puppy

tethered to a light pole,

wincing and whining at the

surging passage of buses and

bikes, cars and taxis. I scribbled in

my notebook and read a

brief passage from Huxley’s epic.

I walked out

and bent down to

scratch the ears

of the young dog. She

nuzzled up into my hand for

a little more on the chin.

My world is a small one

outlying larger spheres.

I walked away,

entered my orbit and

left for the long way home.

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