retired at last
heeding the call of the wild
from a recliner
was that a crow
or another floater
in my bad eye
retired at last
heeding the call of the wild
from a recliner
was that a crow
or another floater
in my bad eye
screen door —
his whistle arrives
ahead of him
smoking
a lucky strike —
dad unfiltered
summer heat
voices in the hum
of the fan
babying
the new begonia
babying me
when it’s not
what you think —
prune juice
reach
of the garden hose —
my world
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