The Shiny Spot

a poem about entropy

Our sturdy house won't stay clean
appliances break
the tub is stained with iron-
and other things.
Our porch begins to sink
and my vision will never be as good
as it was when I was twelve.

Entropy cannot be stopped
they say, though,
the rich folks on the island
make a good attempt by
purchasing titanium hips
and hiring lots of Mexicans.

In the end, it can't be stopped
but the place where my arm
rests on my guitar
becomes more polished
and shiny
all the time.

Franco Bertucci


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