meth freaks skin Bambi in the driveway
A roto-tiller grinds up the backyard.
Blackberry brambles shriek against the blades.
His home-pricked tattoo smeared across limp muscle,
my neighbor unloads eight rounds at the blue
metal halide streetlamp,
bringing it down in convulsive showers of gas and glass
to lighten the atmosphere of his fresh-plowed garden.
A city truck drove up to replace it two weeks later,
so he shot it out again.
We found a genuine cherry
laminate television console
on the corner of Alemany & Sickles,
smashed in the screen with a roller skate
and planted hydrangeas inside.
Angela set the controls for the next lunar eclipse.
The Perseids arrive as venison dries in the garage
and all the spoons start to curl in the kitchen drawer.
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