wearing your designer jeans
smirking every time a lonely young male
gets that masturbatory twinkle in his eye.
Your streets, a coarse spin of tar and gravel
speckled with bits of glass like the
dolled up Christmas card your 6 year old
niece sends you, making me
anticipate another flat tire.
Your sun is blazing,
but your river is beautiful.
It would be easy to make you a home,
but only a fool commits to convenience,
so I must tip my hat and bid you farewell.
Thanks for the bagged lunch.
Miah
No comments:
Post a Comment