Wednesday, July 18, 2012

3787. PORGY AND BESS

PORGY AND BESS
In Wintertime, these mornings are freezing
cold no matter what  -  ice wind off the water,
always blowing in, white caps curling like a
sneer, the thin snap-spray of a wispy salt
on everything. I know I can never escape
these days; every pillow and blanket wet
or damp and even my dry heaves run to
soggy. This beach-life sure is a test -
there's just nowhere to go in this room.
(I live alone, with Porgy and Bess,
my pen, and the rest...).

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