In the empty lot where the ladies play blindman's bluff with the key chain
And the all-night girls they whisper of escapades out on the "D" train
We can hear the night watchman click his flashlight
Ask himself if it's him or them that's insane
Louise, she's all right, she's just near
She's delicate and seems like the mirror
But she just makes it all too concise and too clear
That Johanna's not here
Maybe this is cheating but this really is my favorite poem and Dylan won a Nobel Prize for literature so Β―\_(γ)_/Β―
I mean, Dylan was never Bob's real name but a gesture of reinvention, arriving in a new land and telling a sideways story about where he came from. Kind of like this poem set to music -- the main character seems more than a little borrowed from Kerouac and his notion of glimpsing the the sacred from the low-down perch of the profane.
