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Poetry of Issue 9: The Lost Generation

The Lost Generation

Raised up on cigar smoke in geometrically defunct rooms

How can four guys in a pool hall feel like a packed Madison Square Garden?

Danny Rocco, making collections

Eddie Stix, running numbers…

Feels like I imagined it,

As my grandpa Dan was being lowered into the ground

As they handed my mother his American flag from the war

I remembered the abuse she and my grandmother took

From a beer swilling, gallivanting, hero of the German theater,

I’d spit on his grave now

It’s too far though, Calvary cemetery is a two-hour drive

That’s how I’ll remember the man,

Not even worth a drive.

Joe Sonnenblick

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