FOUND IN HIGH RELIEF
My brother was the merchant of leaves, my sister
married herself. Everything else just sort of fell
into place : the dairy barn, the garage garden, and
me. Just like a clown. I kept my '49 Ford in the carport
for keeps, laughingly referred to as 'Betty'. Most
everyone else would say 'Betsey' but me.
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Lighting a match, the old way, in the wind, never
works. It's out before it's started, just like a satyr's
life. Just when you think it's catching to flare,
the wind dishevels a burn-out instead.
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