a poem by jacob berg
great grand dummy on the chinook howlin
get out while ya still can b’y
what a wonderful chill on yer neck and
the green grass and the hair of the dog.
great love shoots up the fraser, well
salmon’s yesterday’s news and
i’m half sour by now but i
suit a little bite. anyways,
no deli at the summit. charm fades,
all you keep is your looks. seems we was
wrong about everything.