MY MYSTIC TROUBLE
GROWS LONELY
Here at the Hamtramck Graveyard
I sit idle. The larkspurs have now
left, for their larkspur season is over.
Is there one? I forever wondered.
I'm watching some Detroit girls
paint over their sorority boathouse.
Along some river, they go boating?
The lake over yonder seems more
likely. University girls, or just a
college, whatever they call those
places today. It's a nice shade of
something, the color they chose.
I don't know that either, all those
weird names of today. Teal? Ecru?
What are people thinking now?
-
Soon it will be Summer, even here;
and their course-year will be over.
So they paint and lock things up now,
here in this mid-May. It's a nice
feeling, I suppose, knowing that,
though it makes no difference to me.
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