(dedicated to the members of the Florence Poets' Society)
At my monthly poet party
We debate line length
and exact meaning,
over and over again,
frequently changing opinions.
We decipher
the difference between
floe and flow.
Someone teaches us
about the Sopwith Camel
another disseminates knowledge of
the autonomous character.
Although we laugh
like inebriated midshipmen
on the last night of shore leave,
we depart with minds expanded
rather than pickled.
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