The Lot

17 Mar
the dog and I
under the old blue-eye
our circuitous boon
on many a lazy afternoon

behind the boarded businesses
along the roots of stunted trees
and the broken flight
of the failing bees

the bumbles don't waggle-dance
having the fuzzy appearance
nosed by the yelping suspense
too near the lions of the fence

border to the petroleum banks
of the rainbow scum pond
once waded by the watchman
the great blue heron

crunched Pepsi cans
overflowing dumpster bins
soggy sofas left to rot
the dog and I walked the parking lot 

3.6 10/10
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Posted by on March 17, 2022 in Poetry


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