It is noon and hot and I have no umbrella. It is evening and cool and there are drunks by the gate. I watch plumber numbers grow out of lampposts and count the atis hanging from trees. I put on my best pair of shoes and toast to ennui.
A scruffy black dog in white socks is sleeping under the car. A scrawny white dog in a black suit is telepathing dreams of dinner.
bougainvilleas in blue pots
The owner of the house with a blue roof, blue shutters, and bougainvilleas in a row of blue pots on the deck deserves a medal.
Yoko Ono, on whose music she listens to aside from her own: the birds. There’s a crazy maya whooshing like a dart from tree to tree!
Among the neighborhood’s many hazards is a dead tree with its brittle branches curlicued through a cat’s cradle of cable wires.
At the corner of the street, by the supermarket, across the laundromat, and inside a jeep. I stick my head out to look at the feral face painted on the hood of an orange car. I can smell fried fish.
five shih tzus
The five shih tzus and the old man and woman who sit them on stools along the sidewalk to groom them are nowhere in sight today.
They suggested lilac, or lavender, or periwinkle. She preferred forget-me-nots, but they unfortunately did not speak flower.
The overpopulated kalamansi plant is now serving you with delight!
Penelope the piglet
Penelope says, “That is one fashionable strawberry blond wig!”
Penelope says, “It was Hawksmoor, with his non-intrusive freemasonry references in structures, who taught me the possibilities of art in architecture.”
Penelope says, “Look at the silly dogs on the ledge!”
Penelope says, “I want to sodomize you in your sleep.”