An idle afternoon to finger
lace with suburban longing
and taste our unhungry way
through a day, when she came
upon us like salvation.
Please sir please may I
wash your windows Please
sir I’m trying to feed my little
girls I’ve got GlassClean.
And we gazed over glinting
water and the dance of sails—
too sublime a scene for this—
and part of what we’d come to see.
Our eyes would not meet to disagree
nor bring ours to hers to say ‘no’.
There were three girls, all younger
than our three.
four dollars. Here. we locked
the doors. Her daughters danced
after her as she GlassCleaned and wiped
the dirt and dust we’d amassed
in the miles we’d escaped from cluttered
sinks and salaries that buy our peace
its gay and tarnished gleam.
O pernicious day! a Ragtag WOThD with such possibilities. This poem, “A Holiday to Inner Harbor, Baltimore,” is Copyrighted by Lee Robison and has been since written. It first appeared in Dazed Part of Light.