Ah, youth, the old poet sighs. Dew-eyes sparkle. Damned age, he mutters. Crawl-space cobwebs tremble. Excuse me, Love, he inquires, a little shyly. On which aisle might I find AAA batteries? To which young April briskly replies, By the celebrity magazines at check-out, Sir!

Bill Rector is a retired physician. He has published one full-length poetry collection and five chapbooks. Prose poetry is a specialty, as is irreverence.