Cherry Cola XIII
I wander back and forth, flowers blooming
from my pockets.
watches The Kentucky Derby, unimpressed
with the limited pageantry her
is able to supply.
I wander the streets of our little town.
The day is grey, and the
Most of the eyebrows are penciled-in.
I begin with a cherry cola,
wasted the day and having arrived
at a diner at once as
and familiar as the wooden crate
we gather around
The young people take their shoes off.
They don’t believe.
are like paper dolls.
So are the lightning strikes
off where the sun
Everything stacks on everything
The young people tear a page
from Cupid’s playbook,
so to speak.
I’m not so sure that what they drink
can be legally described as “wine,”
but it gets them off.
They float around and chirp
at the first few drops of rain.