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Another Last Summer

Though I don't believe
the hard-boiled dialogue,
though motivation's hazy

and character sketched
with lipstick smudge and
coffee stain, who cares?

Give me a thirty-eight
snuggled in an ankle strap,
give me a tow-headed

five-year-old, snatched
from the bus stop, shenanigans
that rob an elderly widow

of her entire life
savings. Give me bourbon
and Gitanes, a cryptic

dress, clingy and cut
down to here. Take
your day lilies, greenly

ecstatic. Who needs to be
reminded we are not
born again each year?

Wendy Mnookin

Dinner with Emerson
Tiger Bark Press

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