ook is funny

weird collection of
UNIVERSE and hyper-
targeted ads for car insurance.

walking dead is filming in
my driveway

(that is a change of
subject and not poetry but
oops now it's poetry)

(literally happening)

so there is a cop in my
front yard

(I call the parking lot in
front of our condo where
the kids bump spanish-
language hip hop and
Kendrick and fix cars, etc.,
my front yard)

and it's making me

Every few hours, I go out
there, my gay ass half
naked pride self - joggers
and a grey tank top,
shades. long hair. pink
nails. keys and lighter
lanyarded to my wrist

with a cup of coffee and a
(small, I am old) joint

stand on one of the dirt
islands in my asphalt front
yard, one birkenstocked
foot on the ground, one
kicked back, sole against
a tree

and smoke at him.

done it twice now

every time he gets
increasingly aware of my
presence. last time he
touched (just touched, like
to reassure himself) his

a little pat

I wonder how long I can
keep doing this

and what he will do about

because the thing is

he's on private property

doesn't look like it. but it is.

it's a ticket, and I don't
have id on me. why would
I, in my front yard.


Happy pride bro.

Honored to know you.

just thinking about shit

I'm good.

Just...having a hot one.

(you should come visit.)

it is so funny to me that
this whole ass poem
started because I typed
"faceb" into here instead
of the browser bar and
was a little embarrassed
and spun up a story to
cover it

and now here we are

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