I
The thought that Goldberg was
A man she might have known
Never crossed Meg's words
That morning in the room.
The thought that Goldberg was
A man another knew
Never crossed her eyes
When, glad, she welcomed him.
The thought that Goldberg was
A man to dread and know
Jarred Stanley in the blood
When, still, he heard his name.
While Petey knew, not then,
But later, when the light
Full up upon their scene,
He looked into the room.
And by morning Petey saw
The light begin to dim
(That daylight full of sun)
Though nothing could be done.
II
Nat Goldberg, who arrived
With a smile on every face,
Accompanied by McCann,
Set a change upon the place.
The thought that Goldberg was
Sat in the centre of the room,
A man of weight and time,
To supervise the game.
The thought that was McCann
Walked in upon this feast,
A man of skin and bone,
With a green stain on his chest.
Allied in their theme,
They imposed upon the room
A dislocation and doom,
Though Meg saw nothing done.
The party they began,
To hail the birthday in,
Was generous and affable,
Though Stanley sat alone.
The toasts were said and sung,
All spoke of other years,
Lulu, on Goldberg's breast,
Looked up into his eyes.
And Stanley sat -- alone,
A man he might have known,
Triumphant on his hearth,
Which never was his own.
For Stanley had no home.
Only where Goldberg was,
And his bloodhound McCann,
Did Stanley remember his name?
They played at blind man's buff,
Blindfold the game was run,
McCann tracked Stanley down,
The darkness down and gone
Found the game lost and won,
Meg, all memory gone,
Lulu's lovenight spent,
Petey impotent;
A man they never knew
In the centre of the room,
And Stanley's final eyes
Broken by McCann.
1958
