clip my fingernails. in this
quiet state of grooming, I think
about my parents and if they are
fond of
adult me. look down, the thumbnail
clings to my jeans. head out to my
balcony and it’s moved to the dusk
hued cloudless sky. feel like an
ellipsis. always moving into

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.