91 Poem by Joseph Narusiewicz

A cup of coffee with J D Salinger
Concentration camps

Stories from well built typewriters
Her dress keeps me excited
Libido in the broken glass
Blood in the clocks
Ideals like old cars that won't run

Terrible parents with good children
Solitary doors that slam
The glorious sound of the wind
Sleeping with a warm quilt
Collecting things that need a place
My symbols are like my family
Her beauty is poignant
Conduits of ancient family

Tonight the crickets are symbols
This neighborhood can be so quiet
Getting my life together is work
Art amidst all the upheaval
Getting my home to be really mine
J D Salinger lived to be 91