Counterclockwise asphalt necktie
Broomstick moonshine... one busted tail-light.
Hard luck crust -
on a crumb of starlight.
Cross-stitch moonbeams and nothing
but midlife.
Ain't nothing to
mood swing.-
With nothing to feel like.
Get born. Get dead.
Fix **** -
tail-light.

she had a black belt in carrot and stick.
but her olive skin derailed every dignity
for a glimpse, and skipped the cigarettes
to keep the peace that nearly cost us
the war.
she had an aire of impossible disregard.
festooned with golden hooks and kool-aid.
a wire brigade of barbs
with two eyes - vacant...
save a dispassionate wail
of an absent goddess
for all your
grief.

with your pain, immodest.

but no longer
underneath.

life is the gift
that keeps on giving you -
a dead-end job
and a dog park to walk through...
in flip-flops -
with no socks
and -
no dog to talk
too.

something
smells bad
and you hope
that it's not
you.

but nothing gets
worse
and that's
how it
stops
you.

I feel your breath on my face
and your hair in my eyes.
then i'm all the way back -
when there were
no lies.
i get stuck
where the knife
in my back strikes the nail
in my palm. And
never ask you
where the hammer
came from.