in Poetry

shooting pool in a basement boardwalk bar
both 5 and 9 the money-ball while drinking beer
and dropping acid the summer Ford pardoned Nixon

met a blond vixen from Biloxi the older sister
of a reigning Miss Mississippi in Atlantic City
with dreams of going nationwide

but without a doubt, unless one observed only on the T.V.,
it was sea salt simple and periodic table complexed that
the chaperons, not the contestants, were peer

like a former Miss Madison who represented her State,
now decades removed from the parade and the prance,
and with gleam and that glance upward… “World…

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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