high on my da's shoulders i was no more than five into the bar we went and i carrying the beer bucket the barman calling out beer...here... beer...here... the barman filling it overflowing what a head on her can you imagine 5¢ for all that beer can you imagine that and da and I laughing all the way home he carried me
overheated room
a scent of mothballs
from the open drawer
.
for Patrick Beary (d. 16 Jan 05)
by Roberta Beary
Washington, D.C.
first published in Contemporary Haibun Online, V 1 N 1
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