Breakfast at the Bunnery, 9/90
A half dozen dirtbags
Crept from the red hills
Tie dyed and ragg-sweatered
Dusty Synthetic-fleeced
Muddied boots and sandals
And thick woolen socks;
Drowned rat-nested hurricane-haired,
Wood-smoked, marinated, saturated
Wormy, squirmy,
Smudged and smitten,
Hungry for stacks of pancakes,
Tanks of coffee, egg avalanches
Lakes of sweet, cool juice
And more more more of it all.
Oh, how eyes narrowed and
Darted, but they knew, they
Knew the boys were beautiful and
The girls—ah, the girls—more
Beautiful still.
Old Road Apples 