|
Thunder Sandwich #23 |
|
Ron Androla |
|
springtime side-yard is still a sheet of ice but as it melts mounds of dog- shit appear dog-shit & mud it's a cloudy day in the 50's light rain when i bring our dog inside i towel off his big black muddy dog-shit paws sitting in our cellar groggy, stuff cigarettes. pissed, answer wrong number phone- calls. shaking cob- webs, wonder if my son bought that '79 t-bird he was supposed to check out this morning. i came home from work from another fucked up sunday night & after my shower immediately fell to sleep. now i'm sitting in our cellar smoking self- made cigarettes as if there's poetry here. |