Incident Along Fantasy Way 
                          The Typo (1)

Dim deserted street --
My footsteps echo back from the buildings.
Sad buildings, windows broken, an occasional door hanging open
Waiting patiently for the wind to slam it
And open it again --
Tattered curtains fallen to faded carpets,
Here and there a spring about to escape 
From a sagging bed,
Porch light sockets gaping empty,
Their red bulbs long since stolen --
Mile on mile
Of abandoned whorehouses.

They were supposed to be warehouses,
But somebody wrote the order up wrong or something
And since they were to be abandoned anyway
Nobody really cared.  


                                        Thomas G. Digby
                                        written 0105 hr  7/28/74
                                        entered 1710 hr  4/11/92