Wednesday, November 7, 2012

3958. CONSTABULARY

CONSTABULARY
You may call it out, and then you
may change the calendar page  -  
flip and rip, or rip instead of flip.
I do not care. This is the time of 
roses : for the dead, for the slave,
for the American Indian we forgot
to save. The lights have grown
dim now, in the anteroom of
something. That constabulary 
guy is watching, bears watching,
has a gun. For Christ's sake,
put no flowers on the table.

No comments: