Cuckoo! says the cuckoo in the cash register.
Spring is lusty in the forest of stores
fragrant with leather heather-honey soaps and cretonne
while chirping birds on tape are played from 9 to 4
and hogs and furred creatures are killed non-stop
with muffled shots.
Check your reflection in our little
lake of silk. Smile at all the things.
For there is no paradise aside from this
neverland shore behind glass along every street
and no other forest you can roam in from Yuletide
to July on mossy ground this merry, for a brief second
on the earth (Cuckoo!)
which is a star and (Cuckoo!)
now it’s spring.