Summer Prelude
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