cherry tomatoes

by Steven J. Serafiani

bum.
toothless with teeth- toothy
toothless bum sitting like
gum under some kitschy
60’s lamp listening to some
50’s song grumped out at a
40’s milkman. the

garden in the front only grows
cherry tomatoes, what a
sin. cherry tomato sin in the
morning- what spectacular
folly can we follow up with?
what choices will we make at
high noon- bet there’s a
juicy one once at rise of
the super moon. why do
we trample ourselves in
vicious choices?
a cherry tomato opposite of
what we need: sage or starch.

and in a grand cherry tomato
mirror moment, I
followed into coffee house an
old man book in hand left
leg left limp plaid tucked
in with brown penny loafers
and such a lonesome wrinkle
city.

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