Museum Of The City Of...IV
I doubt it
though I couldn't rule out any of the above.
The picture tells no tales.
But it's probably something simpler-simpler and more routine:
A gin-soaked pleasure boater gone missing and overboard?
A simple suicide?
We shall never know, we, too, being in 1979
frozen in the throes of sultry youth
dozing in a hammock,
under the elms,
just trying to catch some rays.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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