I sit in Barbee House unnoticed,
Uninvited, a mason jar full
To overflowing: crushed ice: an
Original wild berry flavored cooler.
I write, as the jar, wrapped in
A torn brown once-bag.
As the felt on the bag,
Exuding red water-soluble ink.
It rains. This disappears before you
Read it, and I, the lone alumnus
In this alumnae building, flow
Onto a white manicured davenport.
Then, as sweat pours down my
Hot-humid epidermis of glass
I stop enough to gulp myself
Before the last drop hits the floor.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1988. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.