Breath’s Final Neat Package

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Waxy paper

cartooned respite

chewy pink

bubbles small

messes big

“don't you be blowin' them

your brows be shaved

daunted mother”

silly child

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Driver's license

double feature drive-in

windows open

friends in next car

cuddle up seats

brown bagged cherries

stems to pull

pits to suck clean

stomach aches ignored

paper peeled straws

blowgun ammo

shot between cars

shoring up boredom

while girlfriend gazes

Jimmy Dean's red jacket

up there four stories tall

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Makin' it on my own

lonely brownstone

Central Park always dark

letters few

bill collectors many

pay or else

notice this

notice that

Oops

the draft is nice

they say

three squares a day

see the world

'til you don't

Dark storms

rain down shrapnel

brain entangled

sunrise runs

nature hides

evil's time

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Smiles

smiles

door to door

vacuum cleaners rule

used car

crazy wife

crazier life

now that's a neat package

'til it's not

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Jack is good

Smirnoff bad

mirrors in front

noise in back

cacophonous peanut shells below

orchestrating stubby pencil

upon napkins write

verse or prose

doesn't matter

re-wrapping

neat packages those 'til

'til glad hand extends

binds me in different wrappings

novel’s dust jacket shines

mail box stays empty

dust jackets fade

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Someday

an old shep will appear

dropping neat packages

for me to bag and seal

while we walk the walk

bark the talk

shuffle left

shuffle right

finding straight ahead

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Breath's final neat package

patiently waits to be wrapped

but until then

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