Fashoin (Suburban South) Poem by Andrew Fincham

Back in vogue.
Not the magazine, you understand
But once more heading south
we're à la mode.
I hope the accent's right.

Still a lot of green, the odd tree
clearly visible to the naked eye.
And a barn and a box and me
while an unknown behind
(who I can't see)
kicks the back of my seat incessantly.

Bon Viveur - a phrase I read
today, and the passage town
Shows apples, woods
And a place to play football
Under the sky again.

Through tunnels to the town
Past a scene and into Act II
Where anythings can happen -
But very rarely do.

Where the lost and found abound and look
for the hopeful miracle
Like a plane ride to America.