TRYSTING BEHIND THE SQUARE
A big green trash compactor
hogs half the alley, crowding us
into the shadows of fire escapes.
We have to stop meeting here,
concealed from tourists and students
prowling for scented candles
and clothes that no one should wear.
The ramshackle metal siding
and greenish board-and-batten
cast shade that fails to flatter
your slightly embalmed complexion.
Let’s slip back indoors before
anyone important misses us.
Quick, before that fellow sporting
a bold red work shirt spots us.
I’m a little suspicious because
his van gleams a glamorous gleam
out of place in this dusty corner
behind Harvard Square, the hum
of expensive, useless education
preening the tepid atmosphere.
