By | 1 November 2015

It works to sell cold and creamy things.
You hear the bells after supper—time
for the music of the children’s throats.
One kid across the street never had a dime.
Who said there once was water enough for boats?
Who told me there existed things called bookmobiles?
I saw a book once.
When I touched it, it turned to dust.
There was no rag-man.
There was a bone-man, on a bicycle
with a basket. And bloodmobiles,
remember them? During the night-
bombings you’d see them every day. The knife-
grinders came by cart in summer, by sled in winter.
I knew a milkman once. White milk truck.
Fred the Breadman’s wagon was the smell of dawn.
During the fever years, inoculation vans
drove the wrong way on no-way streets.
Toot, toot, ding, ding, here, over here!
To the lobotomobile
should those wanting to be numb

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