A family of four poses their children
& what a chance that—those four
the union of those folks, the births
trees whiskering cliffs, sunlight
washing ashore, March fourteenth.
The soil is real moist, probably not a problem.
We gave that guy two bucks and a smoke
—he all but called you a crook. Really,
almost anything may grow. Yeah,
almost anything won’t. Fake plants do
look better than sick plants but two in a row
—looks suspicious. Pet toys sate
what the vet won’t. No—
who says somethings are better off left
—some shit is better of unsaid later.
Don’t so much forget as never unpack.
Keep moving. Eye the street. Yeah,
I heard your two doors whispering
the night me or my therapist flaked.
Please, don’t correct me. Your brain
ain’t a dictionary. No,
it’s a sidewalk grate
everyone goes over like
meh. Nonetheless, let’s both
call more. We are good children.