the dollar lies on the table

a crumpled george stares

steadfastly at me

as I write my critique

to a poet

who someday may need no critique from

some no one

such as

I

A crumpled george stares

back

he looks to be still troubled by those bad teeth

after all these

years
 
 

Ah george, get off my case I say

I told her the best I could

you smile the best you can

don't you, George

you smile the best you

can