Everyone is duped; all see and each believes. Our sight’s a puppeteer
For lack of any other text for Kaboomka Bay, we present a 1995 assessment of the municipality, from a report titled:
Picaroon beer; wine from the Okanagan. A kernel of Taber corn in my teeth from a cob roasted over a fire.
Don’t be Malvolio. Avoid yellow socks. Learn how to laugh at a mirror.
By meters or by miles over fences, over stiles, my path the solitude of highways,
And so it ends, April, sun shining on the final day of poetry month. Well, the sun is shining where I am, in Fredericton, as I write.