Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Vignette, Summer Night, 2011

In the quiet of summer,
streetlights hum their night tune:
a train clacks on the tracks,
No traffic passes.
Her voice rises, reverberates
against the solid
brick of the boarded-up
concrete company, reaches
a crescendo as her little Angel
decides she doesn't want
to take a poo
at that moment.
Angel, goddammit, do it!
Do it now or I'm gonna whip
yer ass! Do it. Ya hear me!
And Angel perhaps obliged,
her human's voice loud even
when quiet, now soothing Angel
with a Baby, you so good.
Ya love yer Mama,
don't ya, girl?
Ahhh, yes.
Finish with a cough:
a streetlight sputters out,
a car makes the curve
smooth as a knife
through warm butter,
Angel fades into black,
obscured moon peers
through the remnants
of late afternoon storm clouds,
pebbles crunch underfoot,
the desire to escape
from this Mayberry madness
overcomes the viewer
who wants to run like hell
and never look back.

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