wet

the street shines
this grey morning
like a new shoe

tires sizzle by
like bacon frying
in the next room

leaves paste to windshields
like parking tickets

first my shoulders
then my knees
will have to dry

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else?
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