We were young, expectant,
Renting a cottage from
Doctor Spock, on Kent Street
who'd walk
His old dog through our yard:
"C'mon Sannee (Sandy),
Poor lil shit", but had a surprisingly
Useful understanding of children--
For a Vulcan. We read his book
On Kent Street (named after Clark), at
The corner of Lois Lane.
Sometimes, as aliens say from
Their sudden saucers: don't let your
Moral compass slide off its binnacle.
A country, a ship of State, in
That distress, doesn't know where
It's going anymore.
