Bungalow

Daughters Of the Catskills supplanted:

“We can never be ahead of our own,”
hot gossiping while
glinted,
appealing on their wavering sundecks, squinting;

dropped in big covetous
lights away, those slighted,

those bidding—composed down
reddishly gilded

(how skinny) calloused texture,

STILTING,

through-to at least a decade’s old last
spare,

(this dawn’s security, shelved) so—

warm-toned beachwear;

was White-flowered, printed and
mothball-scent
assented,

but thoughtless
to generous, counteless, aggravations of

a deeper settling, unrented.