436 Poem by RIC BASTASA

It Is A Hug That You Need
When Some Parts Of You Dangle
On Your Shoulder
Like The Way Your Your Hair

Shouts For Help
For Fear Of Falling
And Here I Am Coming
To Hug You

This Kind Of Hug That Sings
The Song Of
Apple Pickers
And

Garbage Collectors
Whose Hands
Are Sworn
To Clean The Mess
And Keep The Pieces

To Put Them All Away
And Burn Them
As Often As Necessary

I Will Hug You Baby
But Only For
A While

I Am Both
This Apple Picker Somewhere
In The North
And A Garbage Collector
Some Place In The South

Let Us Talk About
Love Some Other Time
I Am Still
Learning The Art Of Loving