behold, these old copper cradle tonic shooters I found
antiquing for watches and
painted ceramic dinner plates,
then the blown glass low balls
like yellow-green eyelids batting,
ice trays, and vintage shag tapestries,
I also bought a pair of tea shades
for smoking joints on the freeway.
god bless you american spendthrifts!
I spend the afternoon knowing your fiendish hearts,
owning your swank refuse.
About the Author
HENRY BROOKINGS WHETZEL is an emerging Californian poet. A recent graduate of St.Mary's College English program, Henry lives in Sacramento when he isn't traveling. His poems have appeared in various odd places. Get with it.