Two trash trucks collide
and the hairiest man I have ever
seen is arguing with the second
hairiest man I have ever seen.
They are both beautiful as the sun
curls to sleep in their curling
forearms. The intersection smells
like bad gin. You point at a car
and say tar. What I thought
I needed to survive I gin up
from nothing. You point at a cat
that isn’t there. What I thought
I needed to survive I didn’t.
Even the bricks reflect a little light.
