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Tuesday, June 7, 2016


Surrounded by
sounds of a Tuesday.

a mower rattles
across a corner of concrete
bringing control
to the ever disturbing grass
that threatens civility.

the air conditioning
keeps the Iowa heat and humidity
at bay,
and we mustn't have anything
out of the bay.

A pleasant Bach Sarabande
tries so desperately to compete
with all this machinery,
as a squeak
from a challenged office chair
complains the words aren't flowing
fast enough to satisfy it.

Perhaps these sounds
are all critics:

“You'll never be loud
enough to quell a mower!”

“Your mind won't be cool
if you argue
with your air conditioner!”

“Dichter sind die lauteste Publikum!”
screams Herr Bach
from his peaceful tomb.

And finally from my office chair,
“You're fat!”

Barry G. Wick

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