Necessity

I’m a little to your left
And perhaps about to throw up.

I am aware of the airplane noise
And the grass sweet sighing
For the mower blades. Everyone
Has memories of cutting

There was a midget – is that the
Right nomenclature? – At the barbershop
Who shined shoes. Only I wore
Tennis shoes so had no use for his
Services.

Earlier, I swam in a creek with my
Cousin who might later denounce me
For not being catholic though she
Her self is divorced.

I feel bad for not noticing the break
In the sidewalk which marks
A lightening strike into the lobby
Of the closed down hotel. Boards
Against the broken glass, graffiti
And shoes.

With a fresh haircut I catch myself
In the window of the cleaners, I brush
Some flakes into the dark edges
Feeling sick like I might, without
The preparation of some little man,
Turn into the darkened neon of the
Twenty-four hour Hot Wings.