Wet swimming trucks peel from legs, flip
flops slap-pitty-slap asphalt
as the ice cream truck plays its tired invitation.
Lawnmowers make their last rounds
before cricket reverb, sprinkler’s consonants
fan across the yard. Mosquito drillsaw
against the screen. Moths pour
like batter on the hot 60W,
no calamine for their itch.
The motion sensor strobes all night
as raccoons driveby garbage cans,
white-gloved. Red-eyes
begin their final descent
as birdsong pelts the window
with its gibberish.
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My last post. Thanks for all your comments!! It's been great. I've caught lots of new poems that otherwise would have disappeared into couch cracks and fuzzy thinking. Wishing you all luck with revision! Till next time...
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