Describing An Incident Which Originated In The Hallway

All this by a pair of antiquated
Sunglasses! And the many-hued bird-Things
Blurred by as-then
Sightlessness. Still:
"When in Rome…" ah! But
no-one expects that to resurface as Certain
Truth.
I do!
God---and outside, from the
Plastic-wood dark-stained
Vantage points the Sky
Reminds me of how
I thought of his eyes.
I thought…? Ah. Well, no contesting
That now.
And thought is as
Fine as Kissing the
Title-page of Russian
Poets and a perhaps-autobiography of
Transcendental
Visionaries

Well---(uncertainly;)
Maybe he is at
Walden.
Yes.

But,
Ah, the sunglasses glinting of
My mother's rebellious period,
I am addressing this to
You. Not Walden…not, Berlin
Or Moscow. We are not discussing the travails
Of Nuremburg or hangings in Jerusalem. Rome,
In the (very)least
Extreme.
Right.
Rome or Venice or Someplace called
Romance, in Arizona I believe, but even then
Americanization would place
You(him)You on some tier lower
And funny before the
Name
"Rainer!"
flashed ahead as he parted
the condensation of chattering
Paint-splatters, and with the fall of
Rome to the
Germanic hordes, the Puritanical
Notions of
Predestination
Seem quite valid, of
Course.

I ask you if he
Broke them and you laugh
And say
"Of course not"