Cringe

Bent, twiggy-licking finger smidgeons
hover tomorrow, but not
when the ice cream truck
stalls on the corner.
Never when the ice cream truck
frets and coughs on the corner.

But you know the time has blossomed
when those rats reach out
for their most prized trash heap findings;
you know that time reached full flower.

Rugs roll themselves into Lake Superior,
Lake Superior glares and frowns upon them.
Under the toe of a mighty Joe Stallion,
we stroll through our riverwalk
with a mischievous grin.

Cringe
and throttle that barrel-necked
orphan cherry.
Cringe
and throttle that barrel-necked
orphan cherry.

———-

First version (“You Better Believe It”) originally drafted and posted to WHARVED on 3/18/2013

Author: Aidan Badinger

Wharved.com I am a poet. I write poems. Titles and subjects and subsequent readership are all part of one fragmented figment of our universe, and it's nice that we take it so seriously. Hopefully the craft remains and grows stronger for our children. View all posts by Aidan Badinger