thumbing through the
metropolitan phone
book: “yep, I read
him this morning; yes;
yeah; didn’t read him;
yep; yep; her, too; oh,
her?! do I have to?”
and I’m wondering “oh,
sure!” the lilacs, the
gardenias, the swell
of the band at dessert
(already?!), my britches.
“the colonel hasn’t lost
his touch, I see.” “but
what about his taste?”
everyone’s a critic! one
can hear several birds
late of an evening in
these parts. finches
are not one of ’em. it
was directly before cur-
few and one could al-
ways rest assured that
the heads of state were
off gallantly head-butting.
