where she thought it would be different

this place is mud and boy cum. i arch my back

and show a kind of way

in in the end it’s a going away song. i shrug it off try to care

waters lilies in the fountain on rue royale

the cutlass buried in the bush

beer tabs into a chain   i tried to crawl into the fold of a dry leaf, tried to disappear, failed

swaying on the porch i swing to my own song, in time with the clank of the old screen door

i have traced the grains in the wood. the porch is old

i move with this pack of dogs and hide the pills from him