Olives, Cash Flow Projections and Me

coffee cup sidled newly by, orange pen

the pharmalady gave me when I went

in for Nystatin for my son who is scratchin

like his life maybe depended on it.  

I put my arms around him and tell the itch

you can go now, he won't worry anymore,

be gone itch.  But itchin just be itchin

for a while longer, until we file our gander

under the goosedown, until we flower 

under the bride grown, until we hunger

beneath that black doom.  Bridegroom.