AT THE SALMAGUNDI CLUB
Thursday comes as nothing,
running forth its fever like some froth
from off a beer. We sit, piled one atop
the other, as if the simple fact of
having no room meant we were
crowded for good purpose.
Words, lingering like some
lazy spider watching its web from
the center, bounce around from wall
to wall: a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
of eventful proportions. If there had
ever been reason to dally, this most
certainly was it. Geography. Travel.
History. Tales of the rivers and graves.
Tales of the rivers and graves.
Thursday comes as nothing,
running forth its fever like some froth
from off a beer. We sit, piled one atop
the other, as if the simple fact of
having no room meant we were
crowded for good purpose.
Words, lingering like some
lazy spider watching its web from
the center, bounce around from wall
to wall: a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation
of eventful proportions. If there had
ever been reason to dally, this most
certainly was it. Geography. Travel.
History. Tales of the rivers and graves.
Tales of the rivers and graves.
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