They shot everybody
with just the right light
to show the timeless appeal
of impossibly soft faces,
brows that leapt like jumpropes,
and bras that looked like bullets.
I liked the gloves.
I really liked the shadows.
I didn’t like the facade
of streets that hid their grit
or milkmen who looked like
they never touched a cow.
Who wants a sterile breakfast?
The best part was
when the slick scene was pierced
like a roasted sausage
and out spilled tap-dancing fools…
effervescent.
The Word Rummager 
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