Smith Corona
Light out for the territory, you said
Of course both of us wanted to be Rimbaud
When Harry learns to dance we’ll make amends
Until then
Verlaine is old. I miss you in a Jane Kenyon way.
I miss you like a coal fire
And a rabbit’s foot, a brilliant gazebo, melted ice, six naps
In a day —I miss you like a letter
Without an address,
I miss you like Woolworth’s and The Old Man of the Mountain
He had a nose for the scenic view
I miss you like that line
Somebody loved somebody who loved chickens —
Our summer kitchen with the Smith Corona
I’m thinking about it now,
Saturday morning first g&t
Of the season —I’m feeding the nostalgia machine
Gaining weight
Worried about my heart
Looking for the oars to an oarless boat.
Damon Hubbs is a poet from New England. Recent publications include The Bulb Region, Trampoline, The Gorko Gazette, Revolution John, Horror Sleaze Trash, and others. He is the author of the poetry collections Nighttime Logic and Venus at the Arms Fair. He is the editor of Ape House Magazine.
