April 14, 2017Even Rottweilers SingTim Amsden

The grass doesn’t love me though I nursed it, fussed over it in the night like baby asparagus. Even trees show flexibility but I can’t be expected to twitter with cowbirds, give doves milk, carry nuns in my brain. I’m from Wichita, for God’s sake.

Let’s save the world, even if it’s only a tortilla with Mary’s face. The Ghost is my pay pal, his great fat fist a cannon, his voice calling you home.

Listen, if you go, take a note from me and hold on, rail against fairness, against the sun that won’t stop.

Blink. It’s over.