SILENCE OF THE YAMS
I toed the line from Boca
Raton to Secaucus. My memory
bank was robbed at gunpoint
by a woman in a sari and
a man in a dress. “I confess,”
he said, “to everything,” when
the police tied him to a chair.
Need some air freshener?
You can dip your
finger into the honey pot
one last time before it gets too
late, but don’t be disappointed
if you come up empty. So much
for the forbidden games
that used to occupy my imagination.
Too young to know better, too old to cry.
My bonnie lies over the ocean etc.