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
I lift the pen but why my eyes slide down this poison face
but the sound of a bird I can’t
the glow of the sun
sinking what
else can I say
I waited too long and they’re already cleaning up so I grab some trash and throw it away they tell me to keep moving
when I slept in the forest those long years between research grants
salad days between immunity and editing
people always said I gave up too easily and mostly through song for some reason but that’s really none of my business you see I’m only paid to write these instruction manuals
leafing at monster cello sorry
it’s these new plant-based teeth
and the weight of this uniform from lack of sasquatch in the spring
did you see it that time like a flash of silver at the corner of your eye but never mind it was nice to see you again and we really should get together and no that’s OK I have utensils at home