a royal hobo purple

it’s a humid early august dusk. a storm is
brewing somewhere out in Iowa. the citronella
tiki torches I lit on my deck keep going out,
allowing the mosquitoes to suck me dry. I have
imbibed a bottle of shiraz from a mason jar-
feel in limbo. a family of racoons keep pestering
me for food. I got nothin to write about. I piss
in a sway in the AC bathroom, my teeth are purple.

I’ve learned. when you have nothing to write
about, shade your teeth in a royal hue, then walk
to sweat off the nothin. head downtown like a
hobo in search of port. you will find it all in
this moment.

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