Tiger Woods Sudden Death vs. A Poem about a Soccer Riot
I can’t read about golf. Today, the bay
is aquamarine. Ten more days of the bay.
Split pea soup for lunch, a banana for
afternoon break. Taking a Sudafed without
pseudoephedrine. Sneeze thrice, drink
more water. A man sitting against a window
looks like a pinstriped shirt filled with
helium. “Death by blunt instrument”
(imagine it was a stapler or tape dispenser).
The German books arrive, hurray! Cele-
brate by drinking more water and
wiping nose. Take a nap with coffee.
Had to throw away the azalea. Makes a
royal mess but now it feels so much better.
Victoria Adams (Beckham) was born April
1974. She does not like being called Vicky.
Sleep life away. Approaching Schenectady,
an older man in front of me nattily
dressed in a sweater-vest and jacket. “You
are now the proud owner of a healthy plant.
Your help is needed, however, to keep it
alive.” Aw, triple-thanks, but I think I’ll
deal with it. Spent the afternoon breathing.
A kiss in the hay leads to hay fever.
