It’s national night out but no one’s out
except pink ladies
in gardens along Greeley Avenue
and a German Shepherd
who protects them.
I knew a woman once
who pulled out all her American roses
by the root ball because they contracted a disease.
She didn’t check the internet
or drop by an Ace Hardware for pointers.
That’s how it is these days, people
don’t ask enough questions, which is why I trudged
up the hill dodging cars and pulled off the off-ramp
on the off-chance one of them might squash me.
I used to be a snail with my own zip code and address.
Now I live here.
Lounge in a shady spot near the pool
dwarfed by crepe myrtle.
For years, no one watered the gardens properly.
I wanted to do something, but sometimes feel
the right thing to do is to do nothing.
I struggle with this.
Have you seen the new mollusk movie?
Marcel’s grandma had a beautiful Italian accent,
a voice-over by the child of a famous actress.
Never before have I seen a film
about a hermaphrodite.
It was
dark and cool in the movies.
I could’ve fallen asleep. But I found
a puddle on the floor. I
always make a point of cleaning up after my own mucus
no matter what sex I am,
shape-tasting
each new sensation.
Smooth, hard, sandy.
You’d be wrong in thinking
I’m a slow learner. Just a fool
for understanding.