Alan Britt





The label says merlot,
but I swear it has that
wooden ambiance
more closely associated with cabernet.

Fire engines bunch up
along our neighborhood street.

A metal clot
in the temporarily fluttering artery
of the Bourgeoisie.

Black dogs bark at the gate,
as ashes of souls and asbestos
rain down on the neighborhoods.


Copyright 2004 Alan Britt.  All Rights Reserved.


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