December Poem

fat bellied clouds

boot scuffle

dragging their muddy cuffs

& not giving fuck One

about another year of drought.

dry piss.

cotton spit.

cold enough to make the

blown outs along the river

cuddle up

huddle up

wrap each other in another

layer of plastic.

homeless is just another word for

nothing left to sell,

nothing & that’s what Bobbie left me

yeah, singing the blues.

this is unsustainable

the politicians insist

& nod through another day.

it is the practice run,

dress rehearsal so

who cares what you think?

buckle up, buttercup.

dark by four-thirty.