The trees lift their middle fingers
toward their absent father, the sun,
as the unshaven mountainside
nods its chin in approval,
barely visible in the sour cream sky.
Curdled milk clouds
separate overhead
and the Pac-man parkway
I’ve been snoozing on for hours
swipes me left, as a pink
ghost leaves my carcass behind.
“I divorce this day,”
I yell from my window,
demanding alimony from the
the sanitized stars,
the ones that wedded me to
this infected place and time.
© khartless 2020, All Rights Reserved
Photograph: Free Stock Photo
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Leave a comment