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E-mail to Damniso Lopez
(Bookkeeping)
She is so figurative
Calls it bookkeeping
After the third Crimean cognac
Calls it accounting
I call it samsara
On holiday she calls it
Uncle Sam
Except on July 4
She calls it
Uncle Tom
But I don’t understand
Her system of debits and credits
I do sense
An accounts receivable
Her sister
Is an auditor
I once auditioned for her
I need a patron
I need a pardon
During rehearsals
I always hear hearses
She is now calling it
Break dancing
Such spinning
In shopping malls
Is anachronistic
I do flamenco much duende
When a child
In Las Vegas
I saw a white ball
Run in and out of numbers.
No it was in Havana
Before Castro
I do not know where it was
I do not even know
Where I am
She pretends this room
Is a tumble weed
She claims there are
No cars outside
It is a desert
And what is moving
Are birds called roadrunners
But I hear at my back
The sounds
Of horns and motors
Duane Locke
Posted over on Autumn Sky Poetry
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