the veteran

his skin
is white
and his
face is
red as we
sit in his
double wide
living room
and he
tells me
about the
job before
this one, how

he had a
career, how

he had stripes
and medals and

wounds from a war.

he sighs
as he rises
to get us
more beer
from the
double wide
kitchen, he
hands me
a can beautiful
and cold

sits back down
and not
so subtly
picks his nose
and flicks

the booger
into the air.



alone with our anarchy and love

your wife agrees
to the lights
on and you
are doing all
you can to
keep the
moment mature

so

you think
about taxes
and how
the state
of Maryland
is trying to
get three
grand out
of you even
though you
haven't lived
there in a
decade or
more and
the taxes
leads to
thoughts
of government, how

the government
or some
government
is all over
your life
with its
roads and
police and
armies and
even the
public
schools
where your
kids are
tested and
teased
and you
are on top
of your wife
a vision

erotic and
naked and
beautifully
real and it's
straight

missionary
and you
think that
God would
approve even
though
the final
ball squeezing
thrusts are
passionate
and violent as
if you are
trying to
overthrow
the government
in some
bold
and
bloodless
revolution.



each time one walks in

she comes in,
walks through
the showroom,
skirt, high heels
long hair maybe
brown or red
and the smell
of her perfume
mixes with
the smell of
tires and lubricants
and all of us,
the guys
in the front and
the guys
in the back
stop working
for a moment,
our grease
stained lives
without
glory or distinction
are interrupted
for a moment
and each and
every one of
us carves her
up with our
eyes and we
pull her apart
and shove
pieces of
her into our
pockets, doing
our best to
save her for
later.



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