"you're doing just fine, kiddo"
somehow a credo, a motto,
a canto for this youth to sing
in any language - his own to sing
or another canare* -
he sang through the little crown
in his left front canine where he spoke
in dactyls, his soda
bottle spectacles were his eyes
from which he saw the world
in iambs (kerPLUNK), the tan
flannel suit (making him sweat
so profusely) flailing as his big
booming steps as spondees
lept up from his false spirit of
Brooklyn:
"we real cool" he told us once.
he beckoned the larks of England with
daffodils and London Bridge,
next to of course Rheotke Powers i
loved you, for i am more than cool but
apparently i was doing just fine, kiddo.
*Latin: cano, canare - to sing
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