It was an alright day.
I bought a used wheelbarrow
There’s no rain water or chickens.
Nothing depends on a spent morning.
Trying to patch the slow hissing tire,
I give up because the whole thing is rusty and second hand.
It makes a better decoration.
A little dying Americana chique
Where pastoral dreams meet unexpected ends.
I won’t ever use it.
So I gave up and took some acid.
As I fly like a humming bird,
I realize my arms won’t ache
beneath indolent layers of sun screen.
The truth serum says I am lazy.
I lay here slathered minerals that keep away select cancers
As new ones, the unplanned demises, bloom in twisted cells.
I realize I could die here. Sudden. No safety precautions required.
There are things more fatal and exclusive than a pandemic.
There are those inevitable ends monogrammed in our honor.
A bird drops out of the air.
Its feathers suddenly inert by an explosion of its heart.
A prefabricated anomaly born out of an unlucky lottery.
It falls dead among the the pink flowers
Next to my dilapidated barrow.
As I am reminded of my own mortality
And the sunset coming for us all.