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title
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Richard L. Matta


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Outside the parade grounds

a sun-drenched veteran-flat top
grey, sandpaper rough

is touched by bleeding skies.
His crickety old legs now riveted

segments of racket and ping
speak in clinky chatter.

The trumpets through the fence-line
like seashells blare notes of longing

but his hands leave the wheels
to cover his tears.