in the back alley
for a better cleanup,
or lack thereof,
letting the raccoons
find nocturnal lunch.
I must sleep off these poems
and this weekend,
because tomorrow
is a hockey haul
of emotion, what
with a red head.
In the manse of
heaven or hell,
I water my basil bush,
and you can take my darkness
but I will never be blind,
just ask my eyes.
It just so happens
my happenstance
is hopping back inside
to take a shower,
jerk off and wash off
the regret of thinking of you.