The day of the strong rap does not build to a close. I see it, the heavy plop, climb from the mouths of twelve-year-olds in backyards trying to be honey cats like their fathers. Same values -- big cars giant hearts. Laying a nickel on somebody to impress the Lady. Grand Theft Money. Moving up from lazy bread to French muffins. Hawking foreign chicks rather than mellow yella. In the future I can just see him grown and slick in a hog on a heavy map he thinks is the end, the greatest. See him throwing a few dimes to the Grape Society in the nearby alley. He'll go to see his mama and sister about once a month to lay a big buck on them, knowing Mother's Day will not come till the end of the month. Used with the permission of Copper Canyon Press, P.O. Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368-0271, www.cc.press.org | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I HAVE SEEN THE SPRING' by SARA TEASDALE HYMNS OF THE MARSHES: MARSH SONG - AT SUNSET by SIDNEY LANIER THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE GIFT by GEORGE WILLIAM RUSSELL SONNET: 86 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN ANSWER TO QUESTION FROM GREEK GRAMMAR: WHAT FUTURES SPEAK by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |