Monday, March 7, 2016


Lincoln, my father said, spoke of a tonic
Which would make a new man of you
And there'd be enough left over
To make a little yellow dog. I smiled --
Strange bits of information were always
Fluttering around my father, so at need
He could pluck one from the air. Now,
A bit late, I wonder. Who sells this tonic?
What would this new man be like?
Would the yellow dog live with him
Or make its own way in the world?

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