By Domenic Maltempi

Sometimes our hatter acted as our doctor. Hats were not in fashion, for fortuity’s sake or otherwise.

Contra-attests hardly provoked a smile. Local prognosticators did not see this trend ending. International Endings petitioned Universal Truths for at least a comment. The latter would only accept text messages, claiming it was busy with way more than what International Endings had on its plate.

We were all at the end of our tether deciding on a song for our town—not a town-song necessarily. We wanted folks to slow down, enjoy browsing through Yogurt Trap or Visual Eyes in our proudest strip.

Better! We would prefer it if they chose to sequester themselves where our illuminated founder’s favorite plant thrived. This living thing of beauty was a 145 year old Mexican ‘Sedum morganianum’ sitting in a key maker’s window for many of those years.
(                                                      )Its own uplifting dragdown polished in enough light
(                                                      )Its own whistle why you work book deal worth
(                                                      )a thousand friends in theory and not theory
(                                                      )its own blown election victory for the glory of the people for a few days
(       (                                                    )Its own Mexican dressing room to pace through goldenly
(                                                      )                   till ‘Hair’ knocked or things were canceled
(       (                                                    )its own canceled screen-door sweepstakes announced too late
(       (                                                        )Its own gray fingered nail wedding party on the waves
(                                                                      )Pulled from that well combed hat
(                                                                                               )By the youngest with the
(                                                                       )sweetest tilt of head
(                                                                       )A title scrawled neatly on premium acid free paper
(                                                                                     )Read: Catching up to what I Know
(                                                                       )But what kind of song would this be
(                                                                                   )to come back for?
(                                                                                   )Return against?

Domenic Maltempi is a musician and writer living a little too close to his home town in New York. His poetry and prose have appeared in “The Scroll,’ ‘Incredible Melting Object,’ and ‘Perfect Sound Forever.’ He is a member of the bands The Whispering Olympians and El Alto (http://www.myspace.com/elalto) (http://whisperingolympians.bandcamp.com/) He is currently working on a collection of short stories about loaner cars and, cocky watercolorists, and a collection of poetry called “Catching up to what I know.”