Duane Koukol: ‘Still Here’
August 28, 2015
To the editor
Back on main street again.
A hot cup of Joe to go.
"Tell the old man, hi for me!"
She nods her head, talking on her cell, as I close the door.
The flowers, hanging from the lamp posts,
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All the different colors, oh, soon to be gone.
Must get a night picture,
With just a little bit, black, lite and lamp glow.
Banners of, united, we must stand!
And the falls, Brown's Park, below.
Big chief, with a Folgers can, for a hat.
"Oh, look her holds hands with his tribe, but they have no heads?"
Stop it, focus on the flowers!
For soon they will be gone and dead.
"Oh mother dear, look!" two babies with spots!
"Look both ways before you cross!"
I find three lug nuts, on the same street!
Were they going up hill or down?
Three, means, only two, will hold the wheel on!
I look at my well fed belly, definitely, up hill, both ways!
But we are, still here.
Farmers market, on Thursdays; "Fresh bread, my dear!"
Flashing sign, dance on Fridays and Saturdays, must go!
Sing, free pool and locust trees, before the snow.