dusty prison yard / gutters thick with clay from rain / football game marked out by torn red flags and boots dragged in the dirt
i move my sleeping bag and army stamped blankets away from the young mother / hungry for isolation / and from my new found half-brother / when ever i see him i say WHO'S YOUR DAD ?
half-brother - he's ugly / he's a flake / a looser
me and john locke got an escape plan / looping inner tubes in secret around the wooden walls
guards in the adobe hut in the south corner watching the game / the game is loud / the air wet with old rain / dust drying and rising / mens yells
theres a hiss like snakes / like a truck tire burst on a dirt road rock
puncture
i mend it best i can / the tubes are mixed with underpants and split rubber hose strung out in split strings like kids cheese
i use george harrisons guitar / twist it all back secure and inflated with the fretboard / george sees me from the goal line / stays quiet / realises its for the good of all
i move my sleeping bag and blankets back to the young mother
and dim half-brother / full of regret and i apologise in tears
she cries too / he is sleeping / lazy / my narrow space next to the old pram still vacant
john locke looks on in scorn / beard grown bushy like a mountain man / uses mind tricks to make the three year old tap dance angrily on my chest / a warning . . .
i wake / a hungry cat is gently sliding
big
claws
down
my
cheeks
purring like he'll burst
from yalenusblog.com
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