lester allen

rotting on the vine

some days the sun and others no
sun and all clouds and rain
and streets for cars
trees for birds sheds for saws and
stacks of pornography

kitchen tables but no dinner tv but
no entertainment beds but no sex
or too much sex and
not enough love
houses without husbands or wives
or children and leaky pipes in the
basement
always leaky pipes

windows to peek into or
out of squirrels to miss and boxes to hit
old queer men who like
young men say "come on in. I'm not going to
tell anybody. I have an extra swimsuit, let's
you and me go sit by the pool."

and sometimes it's the sun or
pretty women on a catalogue
pure thoughts about a
dirty thing sometimes it's old ladies
or new ladies or insane old farmers
preachers on the hill or sinners in
the trailer park

sometimes the mailman gets a
haircut sometimes the bridge is
out sometimes gas is 3 dollars other
times much more sometimes
the attendant winks at me
she says to me "you should come
around back." though I
never go sometimes the
kittens come out they are curious
end up dead on the road
with rotten-fly-eyes
while the trees
sway in the breeze other times houses
get painted or become unpainted
and as the wallpaper peels I think
of these things while
officers arrest lawyers
lawyer presidents smile
kids swing swings
bat balls catch grasshoppers or
caterpillars or other things

burn the world down

mowed lawns mean nothing
well-furnished homes mean
nothing

not much holds any meaning

men live for money and die for it
too and little ever changes
in our tiny eyes
we see only what
we want to see

everything is right in
this world except everything that
isn't

it is everywhere.