Honeymoon

Frank Stanford

I could see the horse outside the window
The hypnotist Salamanca in his store bought suit
white as Pet Milk
And the violet bow tie
like a bullfrog with its head just out of water
He was listening to his pocketwatch
The breeze was so pale and lazy
like the pigs in the sty
and the dirt dobbers whispered something
in my ear
No one knows
how he rides his bicycle in the dust
playing his clarinet
the baker of regrets
looking for shade slow and rich as sorghum
how he drinks
so much sloe-gin in his hammock
throbbing his hips himself
Mumbling with his fiancee the afternoon
Come again he told her
He may have been hard of hearing
He may have meant return

Ginny Stanford