October 2000 | back-issues, poetry, William B. Hunt
I got up and took a bath and got dressed, took my wallet and keys and said Hi to Donna and went to Winchells and said Hi to Bari and Paul. Then I talked to Paul and read the newspaper and drank coffee and ate an apple fritter and read meditations from Marcus Aureleus from the Harvard Classics and thought about his pessimism concerning humanity and looked at three pretty girls and was amused to remember a joke in the music of Alice Cooper. Then I thought about aging and a dream I had about my girlfriend Debra! Debra! Darling!
October 2000 | back-issues, poetry, William B. Hunt
In her last moment as a waitress and in her first moment before becoming someone who takes phone messages during night shift for an answering service, she thought of me, the one she always called dildo. I thought her hair was teased up and cute and I forgave. She was good on the State basketball team, and I decided I liked thin girls. It is time to dream of you, my love. We even cornered each other out by the traffic light. I even showed you family pictures, you even let me refill my coffee gratis. Bombard with kisses my pillows.
October 2000 | back-issues, poetry, William B. Hunt
[b]”The World Moves On the Back of a Turtle”[/b]
(Old rabbinical saying)
Arrange Suzan’s ribbons in a thousand ways–there is time, for the world moves on the back of a turtle! See how reluctantly sunlight and shadow move each day up and down sidewalks. You have time to tell of your love, carefully to mention each article of it, for the world moves on the back of a turtle. You have time to listen to a child’s mind growing, and very much time to comprehend and observe how each of a flower’s petals is formed. You would rush your words, you would have to rush them, if it were any different.
