Sunday, June 10

Six and Fourteen

I’s out drunk-roamin the streets when
my friend not six days ago told me his

first was a son, so wished had he for a
boy and spat out from his fiancee’s dress

the heir named and delivered to me as I
stood perusing a menu, just us two,

and then he told me in the light of boy
morning one over that he’d cried joy all night

and not slept.


Five years I known he until
our adjacent
love affair

in college classroom –
suckling Flower’s English tit
– then young men what were we

;who did not fourteen days ago
run into the countryside
for his

on t’eve his grandpa’s funeral
not finished
yet but finishing
who saw finish and brought
with ing

the news report plea’s out;
he all alone –
voiced over TV landscapes; no he
(nor he) strode forth
the grass and trees

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