He pushed his 300-pound body <br />as father withdrew <br />way back to the Delaware <br />to Thunder Road and Wounded Knee <br /> <br />I was in my underwear at home <br />Martha and Abby ~ entangled on the sofa <br />wedged firmly behind me...a cigar <br />anathema, since my transmutation <br /> <br />I have blisters on my left foot <br />the one with the limp <br />an effervescent lady sat upon <br />my bum, bloated ankle <br /> <br />I asked “Are your tiny walls closing in? ” <br />two hundred Lakota Sioux <br />Stupid pet tricks…Sigh <br />and a large glass of wine <br /> <br />I nailed her with a right fist <br />Martha hopped out of bed <br />not so much physical as mental <br />twas the end of the evening <br /> <br />so let meek folk dribble <br />come lies, cross her ivory thighs <br />where artists die, absent <br />men cannibalize<br /><br />Kenneth Snow<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/premature-evacuation-3/
