11,894. VOCIFEROUS CONUNDRUM

VOCIFEROUS CONUNDRUM

And we respect the baseball card,

and the waffle, and the wiffle ball

as well. We park cars everywhere;

we babysit kids and take old ladies

to the store. We can be yours for

keeps and so much more.

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I wave my felt-tipped hat to the

guy who mans the broomstick,

pushing piles of street debris

homeward to the curb. I wave,

as well, to the man in the blue

street-sweep machine, swiping

the spray of his water downward.

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I may notte by alble to spell but

I weave a mean spell anyway, and

all before dessert. I watch all phases

of the technicolor moon, to which I

sometimes bay. We have sandwiches

made of sunlight, tasting better anyway,

that we eat at midnight parties until

everyone goes away. To those who

bring a cart, we give a horse. To

those who bring a horse, we try

to sell a cart. Well, that's how

it's done here, beneath the

court and spark.