afternoon uncertainty

piles up in a chair

with two hands

and a mouth

waiting for beer.

the sun is up high

and barrels down heat

outside

while the birds dance

in happy sobriety.

but

there’s still a

river of shit

under million-dollar houses.

the kids spill

their ice cream.

the housewife complains

into the phone.

that’s about the sound

and look of it:

me,

and the chair

at 3:30

in the afternoon.