Poem from November

Green walls hug high enough the sky
Child down the lame lane with hedge clippers
Copies cloaked in bad generations
Outdated & operated on til nonsensical

Oak American Maple Abercrombie has a hitch
Flat footed femme fatales in polyester padders
Complaining via digital dissemination
That their paid-for life is unfair

Abandoned acorns crack open
surreptitiously squat in bushes
Their seed seeks satisfaction never coming
Onans overlooked and feed on by squirrels

As the whine of wine fills and is spilt
On Monday afternoon sidewalks of the city.

-11/1/10-

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