     Remembering Arriving for the First Time in Los Angeles

I approach the new city,
An abstract infinity of lights spread before me:
A maze, a tapestry, and earthbound constellation,
Full of beauty though devoid of meaning.

But
For each and every light in that swarm
There is someone
For whom that light has a meaning.

Next year and the year after and the next,
What meanings
Will those lights hold
For me?


                                   Thomas G. Digby
                                   written 2300 hr  7/27/71
                                   retyped 0250 hr  9/16/76
                                   entered 1235 hr  4/09/92
