do you really think it’s thursday?

Laundromat roofs crumple the sky,
distort the voices of birds in the nearby trees.
Little girls wander the streets carrying big buckets of ketchup,
spilling it, splashing it on the sidewalk.
A saxophonist plays for passing UFOs and semis.
The statues in the park
try to explain to each other how leaves can remain red and yellow for months.
Temperance is a card, not a virtue anymore.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s