Hey buddy you’re sitting at the death desk
the apocalypse will happen
In over/under a hundred years
(Laughs)
(Laughs) under
a hundred years
I take out my wallet take
a sip of hot coffee bite
of doughnut scratch
a lotto ticket
thought I had a five
got a K-A-R-M-
A
Conestoga Ave.
A cop walks in a circle
Around an abandoned panel truck
With “Juan 3:16”
Written in spray paint
On the back
.
A crow
Flies from the telephone pole to the street
And the street to the telephone pole.
texas
turns into an oil spill turns into The Blob turns
into a starfish turns into an angel turns into a black halo
turns into a burnt shadow turns into a lasso turns
into a baseball in a catcher’s mitt in
the desert turns into a snake with sand
in its mouth
+ 2
There were two little bottles of vodka in the fridge
Sunday’s spreads across the table
An empty Sprite can by the red
Pen and the buzzing second phone
Steam from the hot water coming out from under
The bathroom door and the ceiling fan is cooling an empty room
with two more days paid
three noir haiku
under the cheap lamp
his teeth in a whiskey glass
the moon flickers out
old shirt
hanging from a nail on the wall
the sound of rain on the street
her red high heels
the broken glass stars
of Taurus
