“…”

4 Sep

“…”

He ate a can of tuna fish at lunch
in the shed where we laughed spilt sides
his mom was a drunk
she showed up in her bathrobe one day
pissed flames beside her car
oblivious of us
somehow maybe the cocky
might turn to sparrows
be free at last of us and all the chins
or maybe he stopped eating tuna fish
directly from the can
maybe he went down his own dark road
down on his lucky own tuned knees
his touch of certainty a stretch
his youth a pissed ant
his smile the friend of a shadow.

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