Oranges
The antique jar contains shards
of pottery from the “ones that
came before” near the Puya
Cliffs in northern New Mexico
I stare and wonder if I can continue,
my robot mail throwing elbow is
worn out, surgery and cortisone no
longer work, drugs help, but not
when mixed with alcohol
I failed at suicide three times,
trying to make it look accidental,
so my lady and kid could collect
Robins are pulling worms from
the ground, winos are pissing in
doorways, cardinals are all red
on telephone lines, they all have
more freedom than me
Perhaps a spectacular car crash
into a river or lake, deciding to
continue and laugh at the orange,
that spreads its legs all juicy
like an excited woman
All tomorrows seem like yesterday,
but, I will live at least for today.
Horror Sleaze Trash 