Friday, April 8, 2016

Poets are . . .

Poets are liars and scoundrels and drunks;
grandmas with doilies inside cedar trunks.
Truck drivers brooding on Route 51;
unwary schmendricks who think it is fun.
Waitresses hoping their tips will increase;
mechanics all covered in Bardahl and grease.
Anyone dreaming without sharp deadlines.
And especially those who wrote Burma Shave signs.


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