Garden Under a Dark Sun

A door made from the haphazard weaving of wood, rust, and ivy. Smudged newspapers flap wings in a heaving wind. Dead birds emerge from wet print. Once full condoms spilled now to feed the mouths of empty cans. The garden has no house. Rubble and verge limn a floor-plan. Weeds grapple, roots maul concrete. Black bags regurgitate bacon rinds. A boy finds treasures; a nickel can-opener, a pen with a lady, whose clothes fall off when turned upside-down, a chewed Superman doll. That night his closed eyes fly over the city with a naked lady. while a can-opener slowly opens up his young mind into puberty.