May 1  2001

Eighty-eight



the photograph on the mall mug

sulphurs

a friend rockets his drink on the pacific side

spinning the glass and considering the near birthday

pesticide sprays into the city air and my father's image is on the mug

younger than I am now and I remember him taking me to the steamy center

the roughest place

all the people there

staying close to the bar

and I learn how to set my eyes

my pacific friend younger and my atlantic father dead

today we celebrate workers

and I crouch

the swirl of fast cars and deserts

great northern cities

peninsular swamps

 

 

 

 

 


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