Dune buggy with a battering ram.
Some things take years so this might take a second. You won’t find me grinding.
You’ll find me ground into dust. My secret lab is full of hotties. The floor creaks beneath me,
even when I’m out in the grass.
It takes work to be this useless. Stacks of dollars hang from my necklace. I bandage
my knuckles as a fashion statement. My knuckles look like spokes on a bicycle.
If you don’t make it look good, then make it look terrible, I say to myself in my sleep. I
sleep so long I start to collect dust. Outside, construction workers replace the ground with
trampolines.
Let’s roll. Let’s hit it. We’re going bowling.
Burn a bridge, build a new one.
There’s a puppet on my hand and a puppet in a coffin beneath me. Life is a
documentary. There are shadows over here and over there.
There are four seasons—all of them winter. I sit outside and wait for the winds to
change. People get angry and I watch them frown. They’ve spent their whole lives holding
in a fart.
Pilots arrive on helicopters that they don’t know how to pilot. Now they’re chopping
up my hedges and mowing down the grass in the yard. I’m outside walking a hand puppet
shaped like a cartoon dog. The day isn’t getting any brighter. Everyone was born to live!
Nate Hoil is a little fish in a big pond. You can find more of his work at natehoil.com
Cajun Mutt Press 