Michael D. Amitin

“The Exquisite Relief of Alphonse”  or “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

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