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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.

 

Eventually

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

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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