Yesterday from the bank at the street-corner
Where my address was intact in ledger folios
As a man in swivel chair, gold name on door.
It will be delivered at home, when I am awake.
They have to know their customer, you know.
I have to know my balcony from where I look
When the man’s bicycle bell rings from below.
My balcony has no number, in wind and rain.
These days my name on the door is too faint.