The traffic glides up—or down—the one way street?
It’s a city but quiet in a neighborhood
that will grow dangerous at night, beneath overpasses?
The wooden models & their grand plans lied?
The city sprawled & chipped & sunk
& weltered & snapped in half, in places,
an arrangement that prefigures casual run rioting?
In the future, Marco Polo, the swimming pool game
will be, by then, an Olympics sport?
They’ll just throw all the Marco Poloers into the pool
at once, from all nationalities—b/c Marco Polo is universal?
The final three swimmers earn medals?
That, or a judge will just select his favorites—
the ones who slept with him or gave him gifts?
[NaPoWriMo Sonnet #9.]
2 comments:
Funny.
thanks, Heidi!
---BA
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