Wednesday, September 10, 2014

STARSTUFF

Glib—tall men 
will all say
on any

old gray day—
cloudy 
and slow

like they know—
and with

with an odd bit
of a glum sort 

of soft jab
to your kid ribs—Eh? Oh! 

The sun!—she
ain't got 

no soul
whatever
today!

But you—
being so 

solicitous—
you'll want 
to know

precisely—who
the hell

are they
from Adam—
to know?