Glasnost

When Ma & Pa were little

kettles of fish, it was fine as gold spun threads

bobbin' for applesider

zee firsty boy was drinkin' a glasnost of water,

clear, still water.

Several glasses

and one

pear of contacts later, I heard a sound

hoarse sound

horse rockin'

in the front room

plenty of room enough for two

or

three

of a kind-

ly gentleman dressed and ready for

roasting on his Anniversary of 30 years employment

with the sane company.

Perhaps they were not sane, but a crowd

or crowded street in the middle of the city —

east coast

or west of the Mississippi.