And how should I begin?
And how should I presume?
They say (already), "His hair is growing thin."

He holds my coat, eternal Footman
and I am afraid. (I leave the room.)
He snickers. So where shall I begin?

The moment of my greatness flickers. Porcelain,
marmalade and tea-- my life in coffee spoons.
Evenings, mornings, afternoons-- How shall I begin?

Impossible to say just what I mean.
What makes me so digress?--- Perfume ?
"But how his arms and legs are thin."

"Not what I meant at all," says one.
Tedious arguments. The questions overwhelm.
I grow old...I grow old...my hair grows thin.

I sprawl, formulated on a pin.
I am Lazarus, back to tell you all, come
from the dead. So how should I begin?
Do I, do I dare? with a bald spot in the middle of my hair?

............................................................................Israel Lewis