Where The Side Walk Ends, 'The Moon, Evening And Stars Poem by James McLain

White trash or educated rednecks
I am a Spring board
for higher learning and where the side walk ends
the silhouettes then were thin like her
and no one looks through opaque windows
any more some less afraid
than when they were made out of clear glass
The moon,
and even the stars show up with them wheresoever,
than a crescent ' Victoria's fragrance apples secret.
What do the husbands know of blooming onions
I ask Charles Bukowski
sitting in the corner eating last weeks anchovies.