Excerpt
My rich old scotch
grandfather made
his money selling
lots in a cemetery
and had a pure bald
head where once in
a while a little
stiff bristle would
grow that bothered
him so much he’d
make me stand on a
stool and pull it
out with tweezers
heart, listen to me
beware this girl who
comes bearing gifts
you never even would
have dreamed of then
Grandfather’s head lies
underground it shines
there like a mirror!
