Six blocks from City Hall the old Fire-Chief’s
Headquarters has granite gargoyles smiling
Over the garage doors, perhaps the last
They ever carved in Philadelphia.
They wear stone fire-fighters’ hats and one blows
Foam from a stone mug. The sculptor saw his
Work and did it. Did Allinger’s have gargoyles?
The old poolroom could have used two or three.
The ornate building is gone, but the old
Pool shooters have second-storey memories
Of stone creatures staring down Market Street,
Protecting the green-felt-covered tables
Lighted by lamps in a chalk-dust haze
Conducive to tales of Atlantic City.
You sat in high-chairs made for men watching
Nine-ball, a game starting in a diamond
Configuration’s shattered positions,
Ending with the …