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Summer of Love


I bought a new red sweatsuit

to keep myself in the game.

It worked like the worst kind of music.

Birds kept flying past my head.

I skipped my dentist appointment.



I thought I’d meet up

with the visions all those poets

promised. You know who I’m

talking about: William Carlos Williams,


Edgar Cayce, Mr. C.W. Post.

Broken rhymes for a broke-down time.

At night we’d roll the ice cream man

down his wooden slide


and lock him up inside

his broke-down ice cream house.

We didn’t try to pry out all his secrets,

but drove away, hardly noticing the snow.

from The Waste Land and Other PoemsFind more by John Beer at the library

Copyright © 2010 John Beer
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.

Published in John Beer Poems

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