Sunday, November 4, 2007

ROUGH SEAS

In settled seas, quiet air,
Semaphore to passing ships,
Bloomers, shorts, and socks
Signaled from her cotton lines.

Billowing sheets, like the schooner’s
Fore-and-aft, lashed in the
Brief summer storm, as she gathered pins
And bedding, and swept
Straining hair from her eyes.

Pink bras snap today
In this steady suburban gale,
From one sea to the other
The neighbors say
It’s piracy,
Stealing property value,
Assaulting peace of mind.

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One Response to “”

  1. Mark said

    Ah, the ‘burbs. I count myself as a resident. Happy with the place sometimes, other times not.

    – Mark

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