the guy pulls up to the bank
and gets out of his fifteen-year-old
Ford Taurus station wagon;
he is wearing blue jeans,
a jacket that is a size too small,
and of course, a Red Sox baseball cap;
his beer belly
gives new meaning to the word
maybe he has a name for it,
maybe he calls his belly
he stops, eyes his right front tire:
it looks low,
and he frowns;
as he enters the bank,
I wonder:
has he made the connection?

May 29, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

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