CONSTANTINE CONTOGENIS
Near destitute, I’m this close to homeless.
This killer of a city, Antioch, /
it’s eaten all the money I have, /
this killer and its cost of living. //
But I’m young, in the best health. /
I speak a marvelous Greek /
(and I know, I mean “know,” my Aristotle, Plato, /
the orators, poets, the—well, you name them).