A Sheet-y Crime
Oh, fitted sheet
You are a thief
A sock stuck in your pocket
I shook you out, and roughed you up
But there’s another name on the docket
Your accomplice, Static Cling
Helped you hide and lock it
Oh, fitted sheet
3:00 AM.
Spent night / for us / in this damp,
everyone could smell each other.
There was / hanging / on the wind
a scent, a black seaweed
whipping / around / the peninsula.
The alligator gods of Florida, watching openly.
Planted
with leprous bark / encrusted / and eyes
winking in the headlights,
only disturbed to disquiet
if we came / close / — their sacrifices.
My father / was / driving.
I sat / behind him / in the blue VW.
Six years old / I was / along for the ride.
I thought / was / my dad lonely–
Had his all been mellow scotches and / happy / wines?
He was playing drums on the wheel
to stay awake.
3:01 AM.
Fourteen hours / to / Orlando.
A cup of / black / coffee / was / all he wanted,
and he began to stop everywhere.
There wasn’t / a truck stop with / coffee
ready to go,
none anyone would make.
I began to cry. Coffee was priceless.
*style modeled after the manner of Etheridge Knight
This well-maintained home
It was a blue rectangle in my yard
Tucked away
I bent over double in the kitchen
On a quiet cul-de-sac
Crying, the first time I saw it
This home is ready for you
The ache of washed up wishing
It offers space to spread out
They photoshopped out the frisbee on the roof that you refused to retrieve
To make it your own
And left in the onions with their fresh sprouts that I neglected
And enjoy.
Make an offer.
