ANGST
AVOID ANGST IN THE EVENING
In our 2nd home they bought the boy next door
a basketball he spent the next 10 yrs. bouncing
We un-gallantly accepted the mad metronome
counting aloud the seconds of our waning youth
Our diminished senses The flies in the ointment
of our dribbledondreams Go straight to hell Basketball Jones!
His father a kindly man waddled home each night
His sister easily the man’s doppelgänger The mother
wore beige polyester pants had a mannish profile &
survived a brush with an early Reaper At a certain point
all stories are true Where now young B. Ball Jones of
the sweet face and bulbous nose?
Fall 2014
