* * *

In answer to the question
that you never deigned to take to task:
I do not think you ask too much
I don't believe you ever asked;
you stood there like an orphanage
illuminated by the tact
of coppering gone verdigris
and twinings of the walk-me plant
nestling the shift of slate
in burial of fact--
purslane blooming in the sun
as mold depressed the colonnade
velveteen in fingerings
of every stop someone had past

leaning on the post-

a child in noisy crinoline

and wrinkles in her leggings,

(grin)

she's offering the lemonade

for six cents a cup and that

was strained to order

"hold the pulp"

in answer to the question that

you never thought to ask.


* * *