It works to sell cold and creamy things.

You hear the bells after supper—time

for the music of the children’s throats.

One kid across the street never had a dime.

Who said there once was water enough for boats?

Who told me there existed things called bookmobiles?

I saw a book once.

When I touched it, it turned to dust.

There was no rag-man.

There was a bone-man, on a bicycle

with a basket. And bloodmobiles,

remember them? During the night-

bombings you’d see them every day. The knife-

grinders came by cart in summer, by sled in winter.

I knew a milkman once. White milk truck.

Fred the Breadman’s wagon was the smell of dawn.

During the fever years, inoculation vans

drove the wrong way on no-way streets.

Toot, toot, ding, ding, here, over here!

To the lobotomobile

should those wanting to be numb

come.