a frumpy drunk walk with
a shoelace unfried, it’s night
tonight, shoetongue lolling about
like a feral raccoon’s
scratchful climb
like my own ascent up
this uphill wattle
Cars kissing
up to the curb
Pants coming down
like an inkspot
like a shimmy to town
Belt undone
as a beltless planet
hurtling through
heaven’s seventh heaven
looking like dads look
at the airport
Now I’m thinking
of planes taking
on cloud corners
And how I could run
from wing to wing
to wing
like a flightless
bird
if it meant
I could see you
in the purple light
of a sober morning
one last time... NEXT