Dysfunctional - Poem by Oskar Hansen
When we came to my brother's house,
the family was out, but the dinner was
still on the table and warm, thought of
the mysterious schooner, Mary Celeste.
Slamming car doors and my wife's shrill
voice had alerted them of our arrival
They were now hiding under the vines
that grew sour grapes, but were red and
nice to look at; the garden looked dry, so
we turned the sprinklers on before leaving.
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