letters #2

When the war came
we made posts about it

                  here in the truckscape we pulled up to each
front bumper and spit and made shine
and casted pot pies over bridges

'here ya go, duckies!'

and they swam around them, starving
and we in glee smoked and watched them all
as one ducked

and there is any    --     another thing he has in mind
solace from one's neighboring wife, wuz her name, in the nigh t
                  that  ,  by a cat if she was one, fat
       lorrie and the gate of dominion
which she ruled, if ever, over a weed tree
         out of control,
and shucked them over to us, where my father,
     always on the defense, threw up his arms and put them
     to screws to cameras, that hung up like chinese lanterns
oh you can spot them if you've the sense, and the wall, head over
the garage like the yellow spark and the side of the broad boat that
slips, merrily, there the night where two bikes,
got stole, and as we shoulda stole
     her
the bitch if she was one, slammed the coin on the couch and make
                                                                              no sense, or sound
and mike helps himself to the slices and there were these guys, wiseacres
that let him in front somehow, and by just pure courtesy which is
limited in the city of spots, of which I endearingly term spots
have a molly there and they groaned aloud when all the slices were gone
but that wings were rotten and as were the health benefits
but need no matter we sung and shaved and sullied ourselves with the
   ending of famous films
forrest
and fuh rers
fussing over it, yearly, the skoals
and smoking the ant that went again by greyhound, abreast to matt kremer
7am the mourning station to climb the apple trail
and I asked him what he did most often at nights, any reading material?
and he replied, no not really you just set up camp and get that rest
    for the
              next morning.
                  sucking sponges and moss with gusto
for water and other valuable .....liquids.





i shook his hand and he sung out about blood and odors
and wanted a beer nearing 2 in the morning and I had
my head up to the ceiling almost, and needed
      to squeeze myself out of there.
it xxxhad gotten stuffy and hot
and i felt that the cigarette in my mouth was truly
causing me to die.