Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 12/02/19

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M-80

was an explosive
a firecracker
shaped like a shot glass;
Maloney dropped one on the
Camel’s doorstep
BWAM
we ran
up into the field and
lay in the tall grass
like deer
as the cops searched
with spotlights
until wise-mouth Little Abboo
yelled “we’re over here!”
and we ran as
the spotlight flickered–
we regathered on the
old lime kiln road and
descended upon Brody’s garden,
kicked to shreds his tomato plants
trampled his cucumbers,
crossed the highway and
surrounded the Salerno’s house
and rapped on the windows until
Mr. Salerno, who taught music at the
Junior High school, ran out and
shouted, “what did we ever do to you?”
The cops chased us into the cow pasture
where we hid in shadow
beneath the mountain until
the coast clear
and the moon-light white on the
back road where
we dilly-dallied long enough
to open a car hood and
tear all the hoses and wires out…
It had been a big night.
The stars bright,
shining as if for us
alone:
six months later the Salerno’s moved
and Brody black-topped his yard
and that car
I never did hear if
they ever got it
started.

©Wayne F. Burke all rights reserved

WFBp

Wayne F. Burke’s poetry has appeared in a wide variety of publications online and in print (including Cajun Mutt Press). He has published six full-length poetry collections, most recently DIFLUCAN (BareBack press, 2019). He lives in the Great Mountain State, aka, Vermont (USA).

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