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John Edward Smallshaw
Poems
Mar 2020
Moans in the wind
I remember when March wore me
like an old pair of jeans ( tribe, 2019)
but last year seems like this year looks,
old and haggard.
Where is this new age?
I don't want
Draylon
I want
Revlon
and
Balenciaga
want to ride in a Porche
not an Astra and
need a Rolex
not a Timex,
March?
I can barely crawl,
I need an airlift
a stairlift, but
a facelift will do.
Written by
John Edward Smallshaw
68/Here and now
(68/Here and now)
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