by July 20, 2023 0 comments

The balloonman is standing just at the
Corner of your property. He holds
Perhaps fifteen balloons of all
Colors, sated with helium. The green
Tank proves it. Most of your neighbors
Will not yet be out. Maybe the one
Three doors over, who walks his dog
While others watch from kitchen windows
And think it is too early to walk a dog.
The balloonman moves in slow, easily
Anticipated tics. There is no reason for him
To be here: no traffic, few children
In this settled neighborhood. He peers
Along the street which bends out of sight
Six houses right, empties into a connecting road
Nine houses left. The balloons chatter
In our light wind. In your housecoat
And torn pink slippers, you go out
With your change purse. Yes,
The yellow one.

editors note:

Whenever the ballonman comes, better buy. – mh clay

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