<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368823" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Tourist from Syracuse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">One of those men who can be a car salesman or a tourist from Syracuse or a hired assassin.<br>-- John D. MacDonald</div><div style="margin:10px 0">You would not recognize me.<br>Mine is the face which blooms in<br>The dank mirrors of washrooms<br>As you grope for the light switch.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">My eyes have the expression<br>Of the cold eyes of statues<br>Watching their pigeons return<br>From the feed you have scattered,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And I stand on my corner<br>With the same marble patience.<br>If I move at all, it is<br>At the same pace precisely</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the shade of the awning<br>Under which I stand waiting<br>And with whose blackness it seems<br>I am already blended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I speak seldom, and always<br>In a murmur as quiet<br>As that of crowds which surround<br>The victims of accidents.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Shall I confess who I am?<br>My name is all names, or none.<br>I am the used-car salesman,<br>The tourist from Syracuse,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The hired assassin, waiting.<br>I will stand here forever<br>Like one who has missed his bus --<br>Familiar, anonymous --</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On my usual corner,<br>The corner at which you turn<br>To approach that place where now<br>You must not hope to arrive.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Donald+Justice">Donald Justice</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=368823" data-title="The Tourist from Syracuse de Donald Justice" data-description="One of those men who can be a car salesman or a tourist from Syracuse or a hired assassin. -- John D. MacDonald You would not recognize me. Mine is the face which blooms in The dank mirrors of washrooms As you grope for the light switch. My eyes..."></div> </div> </div>

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