THE STRANGER
A quick call
to the cops and
they’ll escort you
off my property,
no questions asked,
tax dollars
working for all
of us who
have a roof
over our heads
and if you catch
me in a good mood,
I might even slip
you a twenty
(or a hundred) if
you’re able to
convince me
it’s for food
rather than for
something
I don’t want to
know about and
yes, I get it,
no one feels safe
in an overcrowded
place and these
past few days
the weather’s been
drop-dead gorgeous—
way to go NYC
park benches
and cops sitting
inside their
cruisers at dusk
with faces lit up
by their phones—
sure glad I’m taking
my puggle out
for a stroll
tonight, his belly
full of kibble
and a milk-bone
caught midair
for having been
such a good boy—
Plume:
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