1
-2
-3
-4
-5
-6
-7
-8
-9
A Whore in Washington HeightsTick-tocking like my heels across the bar Tonight, my father's message went To Mother over the head of the boss at the far End of a telegraph office. All day he sent Urgent and Overnight wires to Sao Paulo Or Rio and then would interrupt contact On his handset with a slug. Out the window Mother, listening for the tap, tap, tap, Would be coming home from work just then-- She knew enough Morse Code to get the sense ... I do Long Island Wednesdays, then Dominicans. I'll try to live anyway I can, But in those days you couldn't do any better In Bahia than telegraph operator. |
Return --
Next
Issue #9, May, 1999 :
Santa Fe Poetry Broadside.