THE SMOKING STOVE
(stowe, vermont)
They planted the old man at the corner - from there
he could watch everything. Ruminate the message,
tight entice the glee. Like an old-time funhouse mirror,
they let him wreath in smoke his whole distorted world.
Travelers would enter - those touristy types from the
big-city wards - and gag and complain on his smoke.
No one cared; leastwise the locals. They were hell-bent
anyway on his funeral soon. The smoking stove was the
spot they gave him. A simple light in all that gloom.
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