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Tim Suermondt: Saint Augustine

May 20, 2011 by PBQ

There’s nothing in me that’s Spanish, alas.
I remember the same feeling
when 10yr. old Tim was crushed to learn
he didn’t carry the bloodline
of the great Cochise.
So much for civilization.

But, to steal from Robert Graves,
I say, Goodbye to all that
and I’m happy to do my
citizen’s duty: The Flagler World

of ersatz Spanish and Arabian
( Do boys still dream of Ali Baba
and the harem girls? )
is okay with me,

and I’m not crestfallen to see
Jimmy Buffett T-shirts outnumbering
the mementos of Pirates
who once roamed these parts
( How quaint the buccaneer swords
made in Bangladesh! )

Ripley’s Believe it or Not is a charm
and the fortress, the guidebook says,
is authentic. I’ll hit the spaghetti plate
at Denny’s and think of the 17th Century
and the superiority of all things American.
Yes, I’ll have the garlic bread too.

Filed Under: Contributors 63, Issue 63, Poetry, Poetry 63 Tagged With: Contributors 63, Poetry, Poetry 63, Tim Suermondt

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