At the Trotter Arms

At the Trotter Arms

built-in pigbarn high in the condo.

reconnect the heater plug your
father messed up.

skinny twins hit the street,
in gray and pink checkered suits
with matching shoes—

“we’re opposites !”

by nighttime,
soused park photographer
with a moon pie box
insists on snapping their picture.

they escape him,
tunneling in a flurry
into the banked, hi-way
exit lane.

returning to the ‘Trotter Arms’
none-the-worse
with matching cigarette girls
on each arm.

in their corridor a tremor.

an earthquake could sheer
the whole face off the building…

must be the crepitating barn wood !!

And, then, dash it,

the twins suddenly fancy
they forgot to buy magazines

down on the ground floor…


________________—grimes  9/87; 9/09