I LAFAYETTE STREET<br >The debonair Double， a light mac over his arm， and with a<br >traveling bag all of whose pouches say Goodbye， walks<br >across the jet~4ay into the plane. His semblance walks<br >with him. It s odd two look-alikes should look so different.<br >Who hands over the boarding pass? Who sits at the cabin<br >window as Levant softens into Aegean， Aegean winces<br >into North? I... who? Now we hover above London， that<br >place of contraction on the globe. Semblance sighs. It s<br >that sulky place where he began. (For English sulks in a<br >night-tent in London. Asthmatic poet， advised the Dou-<br >ble， you need the easy breath of the Levant.)<br >Helicopter blade， serious revolving brow of thought，<br >above parceled-out English fields<br >glad to expire so wanly.<br >.A frittering mind revolves<br >m worry-cloud<br >and barrios itself at London.<br >
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