Remember those summers
when you flushed out gopher holes with the hose
Because some one gave you the right to decide
that your god damn weeds had more of a will to live?
Whatever happened to mattress springs
Crumbling under your skin
And warm nights sprawled out on your vomit-colored futon?
Mosquitoes humming rock tunes in your ear
And bed bugs gnawing at your ears lobes
(Because you just never wanted to listen
to what the world was trying to tell you.)
You’ve got planet dust crushed in your palms,
and Saturn’s rings swaying heavily under your sleepless eyes.
Flies buzz against your glass windowpanes
Because like everything else that lives,
they can’t seem to understand why
they aren’t allowed the freedom they want.
( The grass is always greener on the other side of the flooded lawn?)
A flies life span only lasts a matter of days,
Even so, you will never see them slouched in a recliner,
swallowed by empty alcohol bottles.
They fly free until the day you decide
your sick of hearing that incessant, yet tiny,
thud against your window
.
.
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Bronze trophy winner
Gold trophy winner
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