Robert J. Span

My god - my wastes -

gone to grimace

that ought to have gone

to seed and come

some harvest -


When the ballgame

called I followed

crowd-length -


And you! with your

sturdy legs and red,

a kiss would do -

a kiss - just

as well as some

slick between us

and a cigarette

resigned to rather

than smoked

as by the antiquarian

outside his shop

at noon -

Posted 06/05/10