Poem-Monger ----------- July 11, 2017 [ written with gratitude ] POEMS, TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH reads the pharmacy door. He turns around and inquires, clutching his hard-earned lozenges. What do you have? Everything, she answers mechanically. Eliot for elation and Hughes for the blues. Seuss for sorrow. (Side-effect: sanguinity.) For lovesickness, couplets candy-coated and combustible. Hazardous in large doses: Sold by prescription only. And Frost for fortitude. (Expires: never.) She looks up, she listens. Her quarter-jar glistens emptily in the dusty July sun. Do you have one for heartbreak? he asks at last with a voice the texture of gossamer. Ah, she says. And her eyes light up for the first time in months. I have just the one. And she unlocks a cabinet Deep in her mind And pours.