hear birds singing, why do they sing
nothing to be happy about
a cool morning but so uncool
I see a wooden fence barely standing
held up by waterlogged half-rotten posts
thick orange yarn, rope, small lengths of chain
an old style long white extension cord
to keep from falling down
like the drunk stumbling out of a bar at closing time
grabbing at rails, door handles, walls
to keep from face planting and turning his nose
of the part above his eyebrows into a bloody mess
tall logs from a fallen tree fill in the gaping gaps
keeping the dogs inside the yard
see my boot outside in yard
laying in the grass, the victim of a dog
who at least didn’t chew on it
