Grand Street

His foot held the door, To the alley in back Where the hotel's kitchen let out And the night butcher stood 'Neath a dim iron moon And spoke to himself right out loud Spoke to himself right out loud I gave him some room And waited for you, Sat on the steps like a kid Polished my boots On the back of my calf And smoked like it was something I did, Smoked like it was something I did That summer was thick And as still as a nun On the steps of St. Michael's on Grand Who scowled at a window Propped up with a broom That aired every moan of a man, That aired every moan of a man You spoke from behind me, "You look like a soldier Guarding the president's train" Taking my arm, A scarf on your head As if, oh dear God, it could rain, As if, oh dear God, it could rain His foot held the door, To the alley in back Where the hotel's kitchen let out And the night butcher stood 'Neath a dim iron moon And spoke to himself right out loud Spoke to himself right out loud