Welcoming the new normal
late September, 2008
Who left the money for the breeze
to squander? Grant turns into pulp
in the gutter. The rosemary
bush wears Benjamin like a cap.
“It’s an ill wind,” say the neighbors,
but the sun still lights up our crap,
all the doodads we’ve said thanks for
now tagged and arranged on our tarps.
But no one’s selling wrapped foods or
wool blankets, so nobody trades
in currency, only rumors.
At least we have fresh rosemary
to make our spaghetti gourmet.
Gift-giving traditions may be
impeached this year—but you don’t shop
for what I want most. Luckily
my favorite gift from you is free.
|By Tom Franco|