Tis The Season

A wind shift
blew away my
playlist

humidity damns
my mix-tape

summer flings
just the 
static cling
that sparks
but fails 
to charge
that frayed 
fabric:
memory

r.douglas

I’m spry yet retired. I reside in the inner city of a major metropolitan area of the United States. I read politics. I watch baseball. I hum along with the tune. I June swoon, and moon the bad poem. Post here, are old and new. Opinions are my very own, except when wrong.

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last legs 4 1xpad.com

sharing marginalia of the moment
with poesy pretensions on parade–
for over a decade

r.douglas & Snz

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