Transparent Words - Poetry

LB Sedlacek
Reinventing The Umbrella

A plum canít be counted
upon for advice or even
midnight consolations.
Hors d'oeuvre trays donít set
off the aroma like red wine
hair, dumpster bargained
priced specials.  Bags of food
spoil from suffocation as
stomach rumblings worse than
nausea on roller coasters
echo under the bridges, in the
storm drain tunnels where
over Ė up above -- gloved
hands hike their umbrellas
keeping hairdos in place
and toes dry as toast.



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