Harry Fainlight, 1935 -1982

by Gerard Malanga

He would’ve been the last one you’d expect to find out at Blackpool
on a sea breeze winter’s day or at East Parade long past.
You wouldn’t see him in his Sunday best,
his thirsting for the dark side of New York at memory’s loss
and now the stroll in Oxford Street Northwest
with cane in hand, with eyes hungering and lost.
His hearing lost.  Unknown at some unknown address.

 

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