Old Poetry

In the suburbs

Flies halo lazily around trash cans

Headlights find themselves

dispassionately caught in deer

Coytoe scoop up house cats

swift as eagles in the desert

 

Standing on cobble stone pathways

Beneath stern brick face houses

Desperate children pass out

“missing” flyers

 

Here people fuck with courtesy

Doors shut tight after 9 pm
for only the walls to hear

 

At miidnight teenagers meet

in the neighborhood soccer field

to breathe conspiracy and smoke bad weed

beneath the fields of sky

 

Every night,

like a fish whisked out of water

I turn my pillow over

and over

to find the other side.