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The Morning Gas

09 May
i plan a haircut
my scalp is scaly
itchy when
the gray mane is scruffy

nails rake
back and forth the welting head

i look around the room

perched on the edge of my queen
block-wood poster bed from vietnam
blinking
the orbs online

my nightstand is a little hutch
rescued from the monthly roadside garage pickup
the gold lamp on the
salvaged hutch
from another dumpster-dive
at the citadel apartments
i once lived
ten years back

five things greet my squinting eyes
picked from the trash over the years

across
on the wall
the flying eagle picture in glass from a fire station
garbage bin
the same fire station for the yearly
pancake breakfasts with maple syrup
i lived next door to twenty years past
the best sausage in town

this is run-on none will read this paint-dry
this is all the same ho-hum

yawning yaw-nnnn-dah ommum
stretching itching scratching
with a.m needling bladder pressure
gassy music of the monot-onic
stomach growling
the rise every morning

i can't see
i don't have a darned thing
to write about






4.2 10/10
© Brian Peter Hodgkinson    
 
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Posted by on May 9, 2022 in Poetry

 

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