Allen Ginsberg - The Bricklayer's Lunch Hour lyrics

Two bricklayers are setting the walls of a cellar in a new dug out patch of dirt behind an old house of wood with brown gables grown over with ivy on a shady street in Denver. It is noon and one of them wanders off. The young subordinate bricklayer sits idly for a few minutes after eating a sandwich and throwing away the paper bag. He has on dungarees and is bare above the waist; he has yellow hair and wears a smudged but still bright red cap on his head. He sits idly on top of the wall on a ladder that is leaned up between his spread thighs, his head bent down, gazing uninterestedly at the paper bag on the gra**. He draws his hand across his breast, and then slowly rubs his knuckles across the side of his chin, and rocks to and fro on the wall. A small cat walks to him along the top of the wall. He picks it up, takes off his cap, and puts it over the kitten's body for a moment. Meanwhile it is darkening as if to rain and the wind on top of the trees in the street comes through almost harshly.