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Sunday, September 4, 2016

Suburbia, Briefly

September, and a squirrel's tooth
works on an August nut;
a spandex-suited bicyclist
rides his accustomed route.
St Lucy's bells at nine o'clock
ring out their hallowed chime;
old men remember when the bus
to Boston cost a dime.

At Annabella's Coffee Shop,
we find both sage and fool:
teenagers text and yawn and pout
(next week, they're back in school).
Sheila who brings the morning mail
is whistling happily --
a tardy blossom might admit
that rascal bumblebee!

68th Letter to a Poet

Awake till three, I tried reading Allen Ginsberg but overdosed on his naughty-boy language: baldpate sophomore. I nodded off to TV jaz...