Scoundrel Time

Stranger Than Fiction

Outside my window
The appearance of many cobs
Without webs

The naked
Old lady dreams under her oppressive coverlet

Her small head empty
At this hour

What if the rain fell sturdily

The brain waving to a person
In a car

Did I say “coverlet”

Donald Trump is a doofus

Flakes of concrete wrestle

The sky creamy with courage
As implied

The colors have
Swapped places—but not all of them–

To no avail

He remains a doofus

The plague was a bad time
Black flags waving in light harmful breezes

Then down came the edicts

what a moron

we have to understand history
In the interim the waving continues

Well, yeah, we all WISH for things

Melancholy for superficial
Stasis for running amok

Take, for example, a tree

A clarifying situation
Might be the removal of one

Dead one or one on its way out or
With distinguishable rot

& a mouth exactly like
an asshole

In the trenches the mice
Fought on, donated another couple of bucks

To the cause

We all went home then

Simply picked up our satchels