Thursday, August 11, 2016

Poem

Light rain in White Plains.
The doberman responds to French commands.
Out on the street people are glazed.
All I need is a bed with a pillow
and some nature show about the Arctic.
Have you ever seen Mick Jagger weep?
Me neither.
A sense of the weather
being very present and authentic.
Tumble in the grass
next to the Hudson River
during lunch.
Think about it:
Someone is waking up
next to the ocean
feeling all smug
that they can get away
from something.
On 10th Avenue
I do not abide by that,
I eat peanut butter and jelly
and lift the gates
to show I'm open.

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