Door Without a Screen

Lookin’ out

a door without a screen


Mr.Red Alley Cat

a screechin’

playin’ that country fiddle

dancin’ on hind feet

tail a waggin’ in the wind

tryin’ to tickle your fancy

against full moon


vainly teaching

insane Arizonans

drinking hillbilly liquor

from a drippin’ boiling still

is like pagan dogs


their leafless

family tree

stamping their sweatin’ forehead


 a hot branding iron


‘I Like Home Made Rhubarb Pie!’

as it runs down their chin


you know you lost your Uber ride

once you hung around too long

with that rope loosely cinched

around your rubber neck

jumping off that wobbly chair


you had the gall to slam the book shut

you read


 ‘goodbye cruel world!’

but, why the hell didn’t anyone know what you really wanted


to sample a wee bit

of this n’ that

rolling over on a squeaky thrift store mattress

to the other side of the bed

Dreamin’ big

about a world

missin’ holes and pieces

they’ll likely



never build

as a lonesome hungry mosquito lands

bound and gagged

hanging on

 for dear life

on the right corner

of your ear lobe

the night before

whispering all those sweet nothings

refused to you

like a drunk talking stranger’s clichés

you know you’ll never hear

as they walk out that back door

they left wide open

2 thoughts on “Door Without a Screen

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