(Y)AWP
I long to move closer
To the outskirts
Of Poetryville. I’ve even
Invited the mayor
And his halfling wife
For peanut butter
And crackers.
But still, out here—
The fishing
Is swell.
And the mountaineer’s
Cross-eyed
Little boys
Have agreed to use
Rubbers—
Even if,
Not always
Brand new.
