The Alps Go out from here. We dropped our baskets And went out hunting. There was incredulous Love making. We heard things from the hereafter. We commandeered safe passage Out through the rolling Atlantic. We heard of an attractive hand at the firing range that drew in the pack of hyenas, A few of us responded with a Map of the constellations Others began to desire Brilliant foliage And a few bills in their bill fold. We were waiting for it to get cold, For it to snow, to go out looking through the snowy streets of New England, And find that This is not such a crazy place For a famous hat, In Hartford.
No comments:
Post a Comment