there are no pirates here.
only al green and a lack of voice mail.
there is a vacuum for in case of glass
breaking and a need for tighter prose
that last bit was going to read
“and a millipede bigger than my thumb
trying to cross a corner.”
there are phone messages
we have yet to listen to, and over there
are the paper bags
full of cans.
they sit there on buckled green linoleum
the cans have dried beer on their
lips, as they sit in the paper bags we got
from trader joe’s
because there are no shop rites
nearby. so they will sit there, patiently, and wait.
on sunday night around here it is garbage
night and this means we take all the things
we no longer need and put them on the curb
where someone will take them away
I can say this because I hear them come
because I am a light sleeper
and I am always looking for a reason
to wake up