crumbling paint with only a fraction of summer left
anonymous claims I don't know him
money gone "see how they run..."*
*line from Beatles, "Lady Madonna"
afternoon coolness meandering through a daydream
head made of blocks and other concrete forms of denial
wall talk I hear the echoes of things I never said
house wren changing sides as if this were her argument
tree face the bark has an edge to it
trash day my final warning from publisher's clearing house