the worst roadkill is white cat
dog claws clacka-lackey
collar tags jingle-snap
at my calf
adrenaline piss-squirt
sprinkle lawn my friend, sprinkle lawn.
slow train through town,
everybody shut down 20 minutes late
receipts plaster the windward wall
of la plaza mall
I’ve nearly ground a trail on my route ahead,
at the light I always turn right
but I pull in to cousin AJ’s and ask,
why you always so happy?
cause this little mutt in my lap, he says,
treats me like I have the potential to be someone great.
Yeah? I say.
Yeah, he says. That’s how I greet the morning.
Jesus.
green parakeets hanging like bats from the power line
announce Mr. Papers bearing brisket borne from his monogrammed smoker.
he can’t hear.
he says to me,
you know what I like about you?
my salty balls I suppose.
what?
I shake my head nothing and accept the greasy Chinet.
You listen, he says. You listen to me.
I ride to Dag’s for 5 gallons of cow shit.
no garden for me until I listen again about him
running a john deere
into the neighbor’s pool.
when I get home I hear daughter practicing.
I don’t want to disturb but I do
tap out a simple beat on my neglected kit
not 8 bars later, abandon charts
she joins me, improvising
big fat saxophone tone
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