XII, The Second Coming
I lived in a Market Street apartment
with my first wife, a journalism major
at UMass, where I sought an M.Ed.
The flat floors were warped, the neighbors seedy,
passing trains shook our being. I'd wager
we were in line next for bombardment.
We were Hitchcock fans. And I played b-ball
at the Y. My pretty wife craved freedom,
coming from a culture of old world slaves.
And my gaze-eye roved; I had some close shaves.
Petty fights turned into Antietam
and our love was beyond good and evil.
We split on a no fault divorce thingy;
there was no clingy and counter-clingy.
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