the Buddha wonders where all
the tall ships are this year.
It seems there are only two
small craft festooned with banners,
almost invisible amid the numerous
tents vending everything from Hawaiian
ice to cinnamon roasted almonds and
funnel cakes (lifted, sputtering, from pans
of grease). The Buddha thinks it’s a sad
day when the amount of merchandise
being hawked outnumbers the people
who are out on this gorgeous but baking
hot day; but what does he know? So he
lines up like everyone else for a funnel
cake and deep fried Oreos, and washes
everything down with a lemonade.
Purveyors of fine poetry since 2003.