Clickable poem for the residents of The Distillery, who are fine poetry hosts in South Boston.

The Distillery

Dear Distillers,
you midnight gardeners,
thank you for the evening
guitars, thanks for all the
fine art, thanks for the
mighty ancient scale
that ticks off mysterious
Saturday night measures.

Six kids from Southie
drank beer on a street;
their nursery-rhymes
came to me cosmologically
as I watched from a window
in the Distillery:

big yellow scorpion truck
tricky stairstep backwards
golden sundown baked bricks
bulldog Boston boneyard

and then, the magic words spoken,
the night was over all too quickly.