The Old Jursidiction
--John Ashbery

With all these things, why do you care
what notes the baby sings? His fists are full of grass
today, tomorrow he will be deaf. Doctors
on my peninsula concede a happy future
for some of us, the elect and the chosen.
For the gummed masses it's the hearbreak
of sameness, as all lines flow together
in a picture that awaits sunset. Same
as you, I wandered a little farther
than we were supposed to, found too late
the limitations of living in a street.

By anyone's standards I was an uncertain thing.
Butterflies at night flow over and past me,
then turned around for a better view
than they were accustomed to. And me, well, I,
too wrapped in wind to notice the stone over there,
summoned the stranger with his suitcase.
Look, there are live things for each of us.
The planets promise to roll next time,
and the mad fixer amends his list.