The Exquisite Relief of Alphonse (Fuck the Alps)
february, lemmings scurry up powder mountain
snort blue air
dip fine wine firelight boogie
very-white shapely sloped alps
ski vacation it’s called here
foggy town paris
the poor stick around, stocking
grocery store shelves, sweeping rue de funk
afterhour sip the slippery slopes of alley cheap booze
keep your powder dry
store king hollers
over zoom gloom
to the working crew
alphonse takes a horse-size piss
scratches his
daily double, lady luck
shines him a quarter moon
over three cent town –
takes another shot and says
fuck the alps
©2023 Michael D. Amitin All rights reserved.
Poet and musician Michael D. Amitin graveled the roads of the American West from California- east through the smoky burgs and train depot diners of Western Colorado where he lived before moving to Paris, France. Amitin’s poems have been published in Poetry Pacific, California Quarterly, and others.