N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 1
risen from the barely living
his gray ponytail flies wildly in dread
i wake with my brambles intact
we did not anticipate our fates
gingham avenue and the bobbed-tail tabby
backfires & gunshots up and down the street
trash and leaves flooding the air
like the red hawks diving overhead.
he and i make the best of this insanity
depressed that we owe too much to repay.
so little enjoyment. no escape
as we struggle to make our marks
running the avenues the freeways the skies
the air full of the pollen, dust, and June bugs