In the white windy presence of eternity.
THE DRUG CLERK
The drug clerk stands behind the counter
Young and dapper and debonair....
Before him burn the great unwinking lights,
The hectic stars of city nights,
Red as hell’s pit, green as a mermaid’s hair.
A queer half-acrid smell is in the air.
Behind him on the shelves in ordered rows
With strange, abbreviated names