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HG
Sure,
I'm sad you're gone,
but I'm happy you can be anywhere at all.
And sure,
I miss you,
but I'm happy your first breath of the day is no longer in this town.
Once fiery furnace of
Emotional sensitivity
Now a cold hearth
10w
The devil took the hindmost.   The foremost kept the tempo
He carried it away                     A beacon points the way
then devoured it                           Reliable to a fault
sat satisfied.                                  The devil
Gleefully.                                      mournful

   last seen walking
drag
gone

So. Note to self. Cant afford to slack  
No time for looking back or sleeping with regret.
Cause the devil takes the hindmost.
and that's a certain bet.
At the back
of the brick bomb shelter
out of window view
on Saturday morning

before the matinée
Fay pulled up the hem
of her yellow dress
to show Baruch

the bruises
and red marks
her father had made
and all because

she didn't know
the Credo in Latin
all the way through
Baruch stared quickly

then she let down the hem
and said
don't tell no one
else I'll be for it

I won't say a word
he said
what the heck
is the Credo?

she looked at him frowning
you don't know?
no idea
he said

it's the I Believe prayer
and we Catholics
are supposed to know it
all through

but my father
wanted me to know it
all in Latin
but I couldn't get it all

and he got mad
and punished me
she said
I believe what?

he asked
I believe in God
the Father and so on
she said

I'm Jewish
Baruch said
we have our own prayers
not that I can recall

any of them
I do
she said
but Latin is hard

and the nuns say it
all the time in their prayers
and one nun hit me
with a ruler for mistakes

and said I was lazy
Baruch shrugged his shoulders
glad I aren't Catholic then
he said

now what about
the cinema matinée?
you coming?
my father said

I was to stay in
all weekend and practice
but my mother said
go and enjoy

so you are coming?
he asked
Fay nodded
yes guess I will

what about your old man?
he's away for the day
in Liverpool
and Mum said

she'd cover for me
good for her
he said
she pulled her dress tidy

and he pushed his fingers
through his dark brown hair
and they climbed over
the metal fence

surrounding the grass
and bomb shelter
and walked under
the railway bridge

and up the narrow road
behind the cinema
Baruch in his jeans
and red cowboy shirt

his silver looking
six shooter
tucked in his belt
walking beside her

looking out for bad guy
or Injuns
making sure
none scalped him or her

with their tomahawks
riding their invisible horses
across the bomb site
but none came

so he could relax
knowing she
and he
would be all right.
SET IN LONDON IN 1950S.
Effortless it seems like a candy coated dream. I swing and follow through. The bat hums and tingles
as I connect with the sweet spot.

Irresistible force meets compelling momentum. At top of the arc. knocking the bark off it.
Zen. Then back to reality.

The perfect moment. Time in a bottle.
what is your sweet spot. Your metaphysical groove.
Mind over matter. Then transcend.

POETRY. Like hittin the sweet spot.
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