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Guest Poet Hugh Kingston


One way begins here, where
two young children
a younger one
with squirtguns.

A fourth,
as I role by
stares at me with indifference.

The pigeon,
one wing badly broken
soon garners both our stares.

Hazing failed to bring
happiness to the two young kids;
only tears to the third.

The pigeon has
crossed the street
in front of my car
and now walks slowly
down the sidewalk.

It too falls victim
to the squirtguns
as the third child ceases his crying
and the fourth stares
as I drive slowly away,
perhaps, if
we are all still indifferent as to each other's presence.

July, 2002

Hugh Kingston's questions:

1. I can never think of titles for my pieces. Do you think it needs a tilte? If so, what?

2. Does calling the kids "the third" and "the fourth" etc. detract or add to the poem?

3. Are the transitions between the stanzas too abrupt?


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