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on every street on every block
lived a broken house going on
behind closed doors hidden words
never spoken torn lives needing
mended stories never ending
success still pending tight lids
hard to turn mayonnaise jars
conceal the serum melon rind
curing germ like aloe to a burn
cauldron hotter than an urn
like magic wrinkles gone like
picking chicken from a bone
a spectacle of monocles on
top the chifferobe bible turn
to the book of Job on the side
was a Psalm 23 I believe it to
be the smell is always thick
like some brownish liquid
a hint of musty stuffiness of
sweaty bosoms always extra
noise added to the loudness
of the crowd no old crone
lived alone children stayed
home way past grown some
enlisted some came back
twisted and wildly bewildered
slick from bathing in ointment
learning how to grow avocado
tree's on top of kitchen sinks
give it a few winks see it blinks
mashing potatoes into a drink
how it taste it needs a chase
it's time to end this page take
a bow and leave the stage
to catch that train passing
