What if I were to tell you in free verse
about the sunny spot I’ve found?
Would I make it worse?—
about the sunny spot I’ve found?
Would I make it worse?—
the smariness,
I mean? Anyway, I was wearing my bathrobe,
and I tried to sit on my back porch and write verse
I mean? Anyway, I was wearing my bathrobe,
and I tried to sit on my back porch and write verse
as terse
as a morning shoot-around.
But what made it worse
as a morning shoot-around.
But what made it worse
than ideal was the windiness—
almost colder than inside.
What if were to tell you in free verse
almost colder than inside.
What if were to tell you in free verse
how near approached the hearse—
black-leather seats and tires of rubber?
What could be worse?—
a breath-stressed curse!black-leather seats and tires of rubber?
What could be worse?—
Yup, there’s the dank tarn of Auber—
death in free verse.
What could be worse?
