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 found that
This is not
such a crazy place
For a famous hat,
In Hartford.
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