City Spring, 1978 — A Monday Haiku
On Avenue H
Near a Brooklyn chainlink fence
Honeysuckle grew
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My grandmother sat
On a bench nearby and talked
I breathed in sweetness
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Up from the asphalt
This wild aromatic bush
Offered me pleasure
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Soft scent, cold metal
Caressed the tip of my nose
Reaching through the wire
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I must have been eight
Two springs after Pop had died
The memory stays
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Near cigarette butts
And broken beer bottles
Hope bloomed on the vine
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