poem #196 (william s burroughs)

I can feel their moves over my spoon and dropper

I vault a turnstile catch
an A train

call the asshole in white trench coat a fag

'I think you something fella'

The fruit- the eyes the white
teeth the Florida tan sharkskin suit

'Only thing I read is a square
wants to come'
keeps around to offer fast

'Thanks' I say morosely
I drew closer and laid the dirty kid

he looks at me and says 'You will come
back moaning
purple in heat'

On the mark
the boy stepped off

Saturday preserved in junk