You Will Always Be A Project of Mine
A little pet, a project,
a creature made of posterboard
I keep in my drawer,
you will always be
a small patch of thick earth
in the springtime,
inexpertly tended
by my off-white thumbs.
My uncle in the 80s
had a wide Trans Am;
he never gave it a name,
but it had deep blue paint.
We will leave the naming
to someone(s) else;
we do the project-ing;
we squeeze the triggers
on our pneumatic wrenches,
and their hissy screams
will be vocabularies.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment