Howard Faerstein


          BASTILLE DAY, 1999

When the blueberries first ripen

I always draw back to my family’s vacation.

Remember the cesspool behind the motel.

Spent the nights playing gin with the grownups.

Days frogging in the scum.

In the wrong place for so long I moved.

Then grew a garden at my new address.

And the beans were greener than any other.

And the hummers on the borage wore a redder scarf.

A year ago we scaled Cambieau.

Ever since, everything has been so real;

Words following suit,

One leg at a time.

Still, the jails are overflowing.

Aristocrats cut their teeth on paté.

Copyright © 2003 Howard Faerstein.  All Rights Reserved.

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