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.
