(apologies [again] to j.k.)
much had I travelled in the realms of pop
radio hooked on loop of belt in summer heat
in shadow of water tower hoeing beets
it felt as if the sun would never stop
song after song played on tinny speaker
tuned to cfrw connecting Gretna to Winnipeg
and the world
and then
the now familiar strains
of Sweden
filled air
and I stood transfixed
this was a cool draft of northern air
on hot sun-drenched day
voices and beat riding on the breeze
and then the field that I was in
with rows and rows of green to thin
didn’t seem like such a terrible lot
and the sun wasn’t quite as hot
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