do one helluva buck'n'wing on that sparkly sidewalk...
.wonder where they get the glitter....
.make it float like that....
.make it invite my patent leathers to stay on these coupla squares all night....
...
to become the prodigiously
wailing
antithesis.....
...
each a partial metaphor....
glad....with a gentleness of eye.
...truer in misalliance
than those
...
shall make art of it....
it has made art of us.....
it has crawled across our sleeping faces...
it has brought sere into our lives...
...
renting...for a day or two....the entire Biltmore Estate....
padding, staunch and erect... through the halls....
a stopping at each
of the sixty five fireplaces...
...
the day the father
found a dreck-beetle
and put it in his new son-in-law's lunchbox....
it was a misty beginning
...
ah...Robert's otters...
Elizabeth's moose.....
confirming I am but a goose....
my words won't ever scale those walls....
...
it was time
to lay
the thing on something like the floor
..though
...
no, not a cat....
and
doesn't rhyme with much, at that.....
...
yes....I love them...
.but
I am not them.....
as to
...