by Reed Whittemore
Under palm trees, oranges, olives and pears
The indolent desert slouches, half an eye closed
And half an eye out for men of affairs whose cares
Keep them from keeping their gaudy gardens hosed.
Slouches and yawns, that clown. Leaves in disdain
Gaseous dragons their nauseous knights to nettle.
Flips his tail coyly, rolls over, says he would fain
Die a dry death. Haw! browning a petal.
Has it too good, too good. Is vastly diverted
Watching his merchants and bankers stumble out doors.
Parries their blows, says he loves, loves to be squirted
As at him they fiercely empty their reservoirs.
Sleeps a great deal, drinks deep, drinks deep and makes hay,
Thinking he'll swallow the bankers and all one day.
0 comments:
Post a Comment