Rain goes perfect
with a Nosdam mixtape.
The last streetlights
stay on well after dawn.
Kings fall to fawns--
He dropped the needle,
let the song say it.
The kind of morgue with a
gong to tell you when;
but the room's rules bend
and the staff will make you laugh.
My dad wore this face in old photographs.
Calico cats out stare me from
behind a junkyard fence.
High on Khat, I let my stare
go soft, but pretend it's not.
When I'm eyed, I tongue my bottom teeth
and look at the sidewalk in front of me
as my tennis shoes go
in and out of the frame.
Another sleuth-fooled empty 'Y'
walking on goose eggs in the mission
swap-meet, brown, '31', fishnet
hat cocked to the right.
I only played chess once in my life,
and I lost.
Looks like a sky
for shoeing horses under.
Looks like a good sky
to die under.
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