it’s not good
when a
designated
driver
looks for
a taxi
with no –
one in ith
what’s
the limith
Poetry
it’s not good
when a
designated
driver
looks for
a taxi
with no –
one in ith
what’s
the limith
I’ll have
the cane,
its tway,
& why
I sometime
sway, &
don’t complain,
I’ll dry
the paint
she peels
off layers
& selves
in thickets,
noting a
brickbat
& which
way is
quickest
there are
fence posts
with holes
& loop wires,
& clippers;
slippers
pass ‘thru,
always to
@ more
she’s siren
on handle bar
in but ‘
‘ terscotch
pleats,
I’m too
young
& here
only bells