Better Skip Breakfast
Sweet morning sunshine --
Damn you how I
despise this labor
that lies ahead.
The cousin of Grizzly Adams’
patiently waits with the
ancient white pickup truck
he ran me over with while I slept.
Off we go with the toolbox
dancing in the bed and it’s a band
of pots and pans, the opening act for
our weapons of mass construction.
Murph says he’s a team player,
although I don’t recall a sport
consisted of getting wasted
and having shameful sex.
He grumbles and curses about
the day ahead hung-over with
his perfume from the distillery and
gum he must’ve marinated in an ashtray.
We better do some stretching
before the circus begins—
watch me as I carry an elephant
up the twenty year old ladder.
From two stories above I witness
the war forming between
old rusty nails and the tiny,
soft green blades that stand no match.
The ground has become a grave
of tetanus but the old umbrellas
we toss down from the house
cover up the battlefield.
(To Be Continued)...
Copyright © Samuel Marlatt Lll | Year Posted 2014
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