The Backyard Needs Some Attention

bred on panoramic views interrupted
at intervals
by half-assed depictions of urban terror.
I reckoned effects, culminations,
'tis of thee I sing
plastic happy toys,
bleached
the color of
ancient dog shit

ooo, padded for pleasure,
teacher said. feeding me
with those
insanely talented
hands
(he admired my brand new pants
on
an unscripted
extra curricular trip.)

bred the remaining son of a
cigarette butt
in a puddle of parking lot water,
the slow train thru town
and your idle hatred of being powerless
before a god with graffiti on his ribs

slap myself healthy
on top of cold showers then
jerk it furiously
under blankets pox-ridden
with subconscious sin,
spreading samples
of half-life on the
planet’s crusty skin.

the backyard needs some attention.
the kiddie pool is filthy.

better let the grass take over
you know what’s gonna happen the day after,
the moment even, when you remember to ask ‘what if’