The Sour Grape... Poem by RIC BASTASA

the old
grandfather's clock is still alive
standing on the corridor of the house
swinging
making most of the time despite its
steady position which perhaps i cannot
do unless i am inanimate just like it.

a child soon shall come and hit it with
a baseball.

history is made here. Others who want to keep their mouth shut
left and will not be returning.

a generation of geckos
and dogs and snakes and ticks and mites...