His grin’s upside-down police cruiser

and neck strain’s tight as a hunter’s field in fall…

somewhere in his visage a man sprays smoke over bee boxes

and when he talks I hear old sneakers tumbling dry

what happened to his Adam’s apple

the black dog sits by the window

two flies circle

leaves land then anesthetized

pharmacists play cribbage winning and losing on the porch

a film comes on the television

there will be the usual headaches eviscerations

Gulliver attends his narrative on the mantel

painted on a delicate decanter

the box fan is plugged in but does not move

we ate deer and lemons in those days

we didn’t love and became the past

salmon are moving towards extinction

my chair is from Sweden