Bear, Hair, and Bakery


In Bern the dough 
will rise in vain.

Heavy brass instead
licks pompous chandeliers.

Baby croissants cry for
jam and butter.

Pony tails shine black and blond, 
sting
Pink shy shiny balding spots. 

Projections overhead shed steril murky
competence.

Lofty scholars in bold suits and dresses

sing,

alas, the laws to sleep, 

and so the Bernese Bear 
jumps off the bridge

and folds herself in 
happy cloth of curiousity.

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