Lap Dog

maybe it was a mistake
to let in the gutter-toothed bird
with a funny man in toe
I’ve got my hindsight 20/20
not that it changes much
though it rocks the second speaker
to pump a blown-out sound
spitting in 3’s and 7’s
as I drool inside at the thought
of a red-headed Homme
knuckle deep in this
nectarine sunshine
that I’m hiding, well
in a deep, moist hole
it can roll over and over again
as long as it doesn’t
shake this dream loose
held in my dominant hand
passively wasting
fading into the tear
ripping marching stretches
in worn charcoal huggers
lapping up my malfunctions
broadcast in spiral streams
smell that sound
that’s what I wanna hear
let me be your mistake
the kind you cannot bear
not to make again
I can make it worth
the next five hundred miles
secret road trips and
back-room hot spots
for a fried-plantain smile
and some of momma’s
sweet summer grub
I’ve got it all wrapped
in shiny silver foil
don’t fool the bowl
to jump off the joint
it’s just another taste
of the morning glory
black boot sunrise
coming straight out of
the south ill

by Kate Green