January 2006 /Volume Seven / Issue One
Jason Floyd Williams
nearly the patridge festival.

My hometown's annual shindig festivities
were in full box-step when
my wife & good friend went
into the newly implanted coffee shop.

This left me alone on a
street corner- in another setting,
at another time, a bearded woman
left to fend for her whiskers;
to sell sexual curiosities after
the circus skipped town
w/out her.

So I got a clean view-master slide
of all the folks I used
to share detentions &
dissections with.

And their kids, too.

Citizens like the
morlocked blades of grass
beneath a taurpalin;
citizens trudging by like a
Jack Kirby comic-book
drawing.

Later, I'm reminded of
True Temper's oily marriage
with Lake Erie, before
she met EPA.

That makes sense.

You know the Hot-Dog girl.
Every city has a version.
Ugly, teenage girl, lonely,
w/ a half-frozen weiner.

Then there's the Doctor's visit.
And the Doctor is the prom queen's
ol man, & the rest is
wildfire.

It had to've been tough for her.
But now she has a couple kids,
& this means somebody loves her.

Or did love her.
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