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(page 57 of 93)

"What Were Mornings Like in the Nether World?"
Poem by Ace Boggess
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"What Were Mornings Like in the Nether World?"
Poem by Ace Boggess

(page 57 of 93)







Keywords: eleventh transmission, poetry, fiction, photography, visual art, spoken word, film, socially engaged,
political, human experience, writing, satire, photojournalism, activist art, activism, socially conscious, art

"What Were Mornings Like in the Nether World?"

by Ace Boggess

First & always, the coffee was cold.
Our waiter spit in the cream.
He liked to slow-dance, too,
by himself beside our table &
mime impressions of a sunrise
bursting through autumn foliage.
Christ’s sake, how was a man
supposed to read
The Times in peace?
Don’t know why the missus &
I put up with it, both of us steamed
about rising late for the continental breakfast,
but the maître d’hôtel  lifted his nose &
refused to hear our grievances.
“For what would you need
a wake-up call?” he mocked.
“Manners, manners,” said Mrs. B.,
restraining fingers tugging at my arm.
“Honey,” I said, “I’ve missed the 8:30 train.”
“I know,” she replied. “The emptiness.
I feel as though I’ve missed something, too,
though as God is my witness,
I can’t quite remember what it is.”


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Poetry by Anthony D.
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