mhall46184@aol.com
New Hampshire’s Brigadoon Diner
It appears, not every century, no
But every four years in the season of snow
When presidential candidates are hard-pressed
For votes, and in new lumberjack shirts are dressed
The Brigadoon Diner appears in the mist
Whenever there are babies to be kissed
By politicians flown first-class from the city
In designer boots that have never been s**tty
Pancakes and coffee, and an incessant buzz
In a down-home America that never was
No comments:
Post a Comment