Two flee the Catty Arts
by FRANK FORD
for farming, real, dirt, not
Gentleman. Traverse mud-
dy fields for planting, bosky
dells for mushrooms. They
advance in this rough trade
when one, alas, passes.
Media dwells on former career and
mentions “long-time companion”–
no tough deal in the blue states. In
reds, a fact imagined like mosques.
Crazy-making
by FRANK FORD
Once relying on Health Store
nostrums, now on four pre-
scription meds. Latest,
after gastric-horror-night,
the TV-touted purple pill
delivering symptoms
intended to block.
Or, in Country: Gives
yuh what’all yuh got.
Crazy-making!
Need move to deepest
West Virginia woods,
grinding herbs together
with a grannywoman
chanting up to the–-Wow!–
stars.
Short History With Requisite Ironies
by FRANK FORD
Upon his last divorce
the marriage counselor
threw it in, moving
to a studio in Pennsauken. (cue
Thousand and One Nights slide.)
Thousand TV channels, too,
hardly soothed him, reruns
of My Mother the Car sufficing
for the raw jail sentence he
felt deserving of. A cleaning
lady once a month set
him free to go into Philly
and a ball game. He’d
return somewhat drunk
and toast his exes before
wrestling sleep. Also,
Truth and Beauty. Personnel
honcho of Wawa Stores HQ
in Wawa, PA finally tabbed his
background as priceless in
handing disputes arising mid
coffee makers and cashiers.
The first day a flash flood took
his car and it couldn’t be found.
Trooper Kip Stoltzfus told him
not to worry. Couldn’t search all
the streams while it still poured.
Fire truck carried him to an AAA
motel across from Granite Run Mall.
Action News sought an interview
but he shivered under blankets.
Frank Ford prefers football to politics lately. Afraid he may learn too much.
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