petite doggie sits on a pile of belongings in the passenger seat of a dirty snowball, staring stoically ahead. starving artist I used to be a cafe regular with saunters past in a heavy raincoat the color of rescue. lone crow glides down from the leaf-thinned elm tree each battered leaf a yellow flag, waiting to be lowered and received. the murder feasts, pecks enthusiastically at the circle's mustache of broken bread. she must pretend, she must pretend not to see what she sees until she's clocked by the last punch of the day of the week, until then kiss the distant rings. verdant sea churns about the proud pine twins, squirrel bounds through the plush lawn, its tail an ash-gray exclamation mark. glum sky yawns, asks,
hey man, where can you score some sun around here?
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