Milwaukee

                                       Milwaukee closed its Northern door,
                                       The door, this door upon the shore.
                                       This closed gate, securer of fate
                                       Without a key, without debate.
                                       The door upon the shore now locked
                                       And through the arch trespass is blocked.
                                       From the best and worse of my days,
                                       The door swung shut from eyes that gaze.

                                       Their gaze, the stares at the old man
                                       That got up and finally ran.
                                       And as he passed through the last room
                                       He looked back once upon his tomb.

                                       Then into the storm overhead,
                                       Remembering all that was said
                                       Of the present and of the past,
                                       A past that wouldn’t be surpassed.