Souls Worn Thin

Poetry crumbs in an unmade bed

drive-by shooting stars

an unleveled bar

a man with one leg longer than the other

headaches or tailspins

dog mood spelled backward

allergic to spelling bees

look, mom, we’ve made it

learned how to rhyme 

time and never again

wash your teeth with a rag

escort the dog 

more than one way to reupholster the cat

no more sense in the news

it costs two dollars

tip your servers

do their laundry

pet the mailman 

kiss the governor’s baby on the mouth

impeach the cobbler

spaghetti with a spoon

or against the wall 

if it sticks it’s ready

here we go, baby

piss on the toilet paper at the gas station

fill the tank with mud

no one ever searches for dinosaur bones

in the graveyard

art for rent

collateral damage 

pawn shop coffee

no stone left…

handed