in a dead town a blonde
pasted over plastic salad
we don’t want
to admit
we’ don’t want
here and now
bleached by long days
the feel of a dirt road
the broken fence
the yellow teeth of the locust
on the lawn
rusting
a cracked mountain
sinking
in a dead town a blonde
pasted over plastic salad
we don’t want
to admit
we’ don’t want
here and now
bleached by long days
the feel of a dirt road
the broken fence
the yellow teeth of the locust
on the lawn
rusting
a cracked mountain
sinking
those little hopes for the
weekend with green softness
over the lawn insects
float or dart the breeze
was so important that
it might keep me up tonight
I know it’s not your problem
the pickles came out so well
you know the darkness
catches up before
summer really gets
going I should stop
saying you know you
know anywhoo the
last time we spoke
you were spitting
in the eye of
a hurricane
it’s always the way when the days get less
generous with their light and walking the
dog you see furry legs in the trees and
a noise near or far you choose to ignore
this breath or the next or that
night bird over a lawn without
color some itch on some list
Tell me, if I walk the bridge
and nothing escapes do I
still plant a seed in secret?
brown patches on the lawn in back of my throat
my neighbor’s
perfect goddamn lawn—
short night
almost bent in half on the lawn an old woman eats a peach