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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=583278" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Which Flower Is This</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=583278" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Which flower is this? They don’t have penny Candy<br>Anymore- They have plenty of dollar stores<br>With dollar candy, which used to be penny candy: <br>They aren’t accepting applications; they’ve got a stack<br>Of them so high, <br>The skyscrapers cause falls of shadows in the heart of <br>A Midwestern city, <br>But not enough time: I write this because I brag I <br>Gave a hobo all my pennies today, <br>Two fifty cent pieces I stole from home: <br>They were both worth fifty cents; <br>He can buy a little beer. Look at the scars on<br>This side of my face, mirror- Now look away; <br>And I haven’t been to visit your grave, I’m sorry; <br>I’m too depressed to get out the door- Its too long a drive<br>Now that you’re my neighbor, honey-<br>Those silent green neighborhoods they don’t make anymore.<br>Now its all cemeteries: <br>Like Viking Kings in their houses, what great dogs<br>And chattel rubbed together it makes for<br>Slender tourism: I’ve seen her jogging everywhere, and her<br>Hair cascades the autumn where so many leaves sleep<br>Upon my floor.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>