HOLLOW HANDS
How they hold the scoop;
just watch that old man. He
cradles the soil as if it were
gold. The dust of gold anyway.
Community gardens attract the
elderly, the wise, the flip and the
kind. It's deep Spring now, that
time we enter when they all come
out. This Philadelphia sunlight
is good for things.
-
Over at the other corner, the local
bar fills with its sort - the panelists
of a dead-drunk game show, picking
clues off an insect wall, describing
things that don't exist, peeling their
layers off imaginary onions.
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