Parking in Morocco, Lady K

 

WOODY x 2 (DUANE IS DEAD)

woody x weed

woodpecker landed ona thick tree
and did a little dance to the priest
wld a pecker cld
he mighta askt
what the hell allus people
were doin standing by a hole
we didnt beak

 

woody x beer

when the priest suggested we imitate,

rhythmic sniffs/stand still
u cld hear a single
pebble shift.
                    o a woodpecker landed!
                    ona big tree yea-so '
cross-field
holed thru for Duane.
                              the bird was
                              big, was hop,
(alotta head) hop hophop plink
          'plinkplink' bird feet on fine stemware.

i cld hear the hop hop dance
though i only really felt it,

whole minutes the world

while the train went up from
hard gr/ass/phault,
          shook field.
hard hush

my focus

then flapt soundless.

Bree

 

EXCESSIVE DRINKING.

I had made an agreement
w/ myself, a couple weeks back,
to only drink booze
on special occasions—

So we were on our way
to the dog show & I already
had 7 beers in me &
had grand promises
of more to come.

It was a weird scene,
the dog show that is.
All the dog owners, w/ their
decorative sweaters &
curtain length dresses, had
strange, ostrich gaits, &
seemed to be terribly exhausted
after their little marches
around the child-safe
fence.

All the dogs were done up
like supermodels,
except one.

This one dog, & I don’t know how
this ugly footstool got in, maybe its
owner had connections, but this thing
was a gruesome, turd-brown pug
w/ severe asthma—like those lizards from
Land of the Lost—& it had all sorts of
moldy green gunk around those bug eyes.
Oh, yeah—it was fat.
Circus tent fat.
In fact, the owner had to pull
the dog out on a
beat-up red wagon.

I was the only one that cheered
for that miserable mutt—
that creature hidden in the
basement when company came over.

And later, when I drank
4 more beers, & they awarded
the best in show ribbon to
some stuck-up cocker spaniel—
w/ pink ribbons on its ears, braids
on its plush hair & neatly
painted toenails—
I was ripe w/ anger, &
I hopped the gate & bit
that gorgeous sonabitch
right in the head.

I don’t know much after that,
I guess I blacked out.

But when I’m outta jail, &
if that cocker spaniel survives
the operations, I’m going
to buy that damn pug.

Jason Floyd Williams