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Rich Gold Afternoon

On a rich gold afternoon
she is riding in a convertible:
the wind blows through
her golden hair, the brown
no more to be seen.

The car was grand
the-trailer pulling a race-car
was grand.
You could see-she had-a rich man.
-Maximize rich, Minimize man-

From the masks
of plastic smiles
eyes
were interested only
in how many saw their flash.

About This Poem

Editing Stage: Editing - rough draft

About the Author

Country/Region: The Nederlands

Favorite Poets: William Butler Yates, Wallace Stevens, Giuseppe ungaretti, William Blake

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