By Thomas Page

I can’t imagine

The world so small that

It can be placed on

A grain of rice and

Sold in a beachfront

Souvenir shop next

To hermit crabs and

Obscene tees hung like

College banners and

Beer signs down the road

Mixed with heat and sand

And sunburned shoulders

Bathed in aloe crème

Purchased near products

For adults held ‘hind

The counter and the

Knick-knacks costing a

Dollar or so and

Melted chocolate and

Frozen candy, taste-

Less as the aspirin

Is sweet mixed with some

Car-hot water that

Hopes to end smarting

Vacation headaches

That come with the sun

Once owned by Victoria

Never setting on

Her land on a globe

That could have been the

Exact size of a

Grain of lonely rice.

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