in suburbia there are no dogs
only knuckle sandwiches and unclean litter-boxes
the mailman comes every day at two
only to keep on going
once there was lemonade stands and yard sales
now piling junk and rotting fruit
we stack all the flat bicycle tires up and climb to the sun
only to fall back down again
sometimes we can smell the stench from the landfill 4 hours from here
or two minutes - depending on how you get there
everyone has a car
nobody has a jack-o-lantern
anymore
the grass is starting to get tired of eternity
"i never signed up for this" they say
the windowsills are planes of dirt
<4, 2>
ladybug carcass heading to rotterdam
i think the sun burned all the stars away
the snow that used to fall now sinks into the ground
listen close to hear the drab hum of the political gurus speaking in tongues
exponential growth, i think
from nowhere to somewhere to nowhere in ten seconds flat
paperboys, sandbuckets, travelling salesman
telescopes, watering cans, wagon wheels
nannies, idle time, hide and seek

now everyone's got something important to say
but not to the gods
only to heaven

maybe there are dogs in suburbia
but that's all there is
anymore