(An oldie but Goody, Sam… wrote it in ’72, appeared
in “Sunset Palms Motel”, a great little magazine
that Michael C. Ford used to edit. Some of the refe-
fences are about events of that era.)

No exit
from under all this gravel,
sand, old pipes,
cracked manhole covers
and discarded “MEN WORKING” signs…

10W30 sludge seeps in,
I take comfort in thinking
it’s from Cadillacs…

from above,
the rusty groans of park & sex –

I would tap a message,
but my jackhammer
is inoperative…


even my pencil is down
to four-letter words…

only one alternative –
“Dear Consolidated Edison –
may I call you Con Ed?

I apologize for my contribution
to the energy crisis,
and for my snicker when you warned:
-Our TX-600 is programmed
to respond effectively-

won’t you forgive?
I promise to pack
my two-fetisher
& seek new utilities.”

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