(The first part of the poem is over here.)
2. How the Devil Seemed
He was an old man as we met him,
sipping Chardonnay at the Carousel Bar;
a silver statesman neatly combed
and tanned to liver and lung.
Cufflinks, brass. A suit brushed to starless night.
His reflection passing through paneled mirrors
as if looking for an exit.
He set his glass down, turned to us and laughed.
(His laugh like dust, a reversed relic of breath.)
The city, he told us, is never coming back.
To tell the truth we could hardly stand to look at him.