Judy Garland

My neighbor looks like a
Toothless Robert Dinero.

He’s an old union man.

He sits in his yard
And I in mine
Beers and ciggies in hand
Talking through the chain link
About jazz
And old west wars.

He collects books and cameras and weird shit.

He says he loves Judy Garland
But interjects
That he’s not queer or anything.

I took a long drag
And assured him that I never thought so.

Then I found a back issue of Vanity Fair
That had an article about Garland’s
Live At Carnegie Hall recording
And I showed it to him.

I thought he would weep
Right there in front of me
As the Philly sun
Baked the concrete
Around us.