Garbled voices through
walls thick, yammers and whoops
make themselves known. Intermittent
laughing adds to clues
of celebration next door. She
checks under doormat and
deep in mailbox, as she sees more
guests arriving with big trays
of film wrapped fruit
and crudités. Her invitation isn't
in sight. Venetian blinds keep
blinking peeks, all night, as others
come and go.

Cinder block fence separates.
She combs her gray greasy hair,
puts in rhinestone barrette,
wishes upon a star.

One dumb ******* mouth speaks
does eat
the face by

two thin chords
of pink sweating
easily .

it yammers it says
something about
the weather whether

or not
it might rain

heaping into
the pinched
nooseness

the fat trill
thinness of
its head:


sleeeeeep.

There’s no good men out there, Mamma says,
then yammers on ‘bout my dear Daddy who left us
for ***** and other women.  Never even phoned
once in those twenty-odd years before he dropped
dead of cirrhosis in a ****** downtown hotel.

There’s no good men out there.  Big Daddy
beat Gramma. Knocked a tooth out once, called
her “Dumb Swede,” ‘fore he ran off with a girl
of seventeen.  Then Andy who lied, spent Gram’s
job money.  Third one was a crotchety, mean drunk.  

There’s no good men out there.  Great Uncle Harvey-
never the same after the war.  Nothing but a dirt poor
farmer.  Strayed down to the gin mill most nights.  No
indoor plumbing, all those long winter nights racing out
to the old outhouse, dodging piles of chicken ****.

There’s no good men out there.  Sister used her long

string of them as good example:  potheads, speeders,

one musician, and that Mamma’s boy vet who hears

choppers overhead and needs five Jim Beam’s
for “medicinal purposes” ‘fore he can sleep nights.

There’s no good men out there.  Doctor made me recall
a few jokers of my own: G. who hated working, oh yeah,
and Rob with his 6 DUIs.  Surfer dude, Joe, high on fiberglass,
that well-heeled tight ***.  When Doc called my latest
nothing but an animated *****, I laughed so hard I ‘bout cried.

There’s no good men out there.  Seems like every gal I know
says there’s no good men out there, anywhere.  Maggie’s John
screws any babe who gives him a second glance.  Sue says her
Frankie might as well be mute. every man alive's a dumb ****.

But hey, all’s I need is one.