Antipathy dropped by last night, the heat
Escaping through his bowler hat, a brush
Mustache above the toothy grin, cravat
In old-school colors, much askew. He stood
Half again as wide as tall. So it seemed.
He hadn’t a sweet sound to make. A few
Blasts of opprobrium and then all gone.
I sprayed air freshener and lit an old
Pumpkin-scented candle, then I returned
To sweeping up the letters I had dropped,
Overseas mail, the most of them, from times
I promised I would not forget, though some
Contained an odd surprise I’d overlooked.
And now, spent by Antipathy, I found
A rhythm I was better off without.
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