iii
the knock at the front door noknok
the back door SLAMS shut
wind howls dust devils swirl
in the dirty lot by the blacktop
living on white bread cold cuts
slouched in the creaky rocking chair
puffing at used Chesterfield butts
next to the old wood burning stove
murder of crows in the schoolyard
yonder, i was a bad house sitter
no cell phones in those days
no car, way down Aqua Fria
in snakeskin boots, haunted times
bourbon, trudging miles to Babes
on Canyon Road, perros hounding
every step, lunging, dodging
confounded, mister, disoriented
scouring every East-West Journal
Singing Wire Sundays, long silences
lost in a bad dream, the minds
erosion, far from Turkey Spur &
friendly familiar smiles, to trust
the precise perfect occasion
for the slithering viper’s visitation
ringringringring Hello? Yes.
_ fingernail torn off in a dogfight
Scroggy fixed it with Goldenseal
