I’m Beware of Dog and illuminated living rooms
with open curtains.
Scrape my arm on a caution sign,
occupied in observation and spatially unaware.
I’ll kick an avocado pit and catch a cold tomorrow,
cross the Blue Line bridge and
rabbit’s footprint and
broken glass and
frozen dog shits like stones on the sidewalk.
I’ll squeeze my teeth together and
watch bats fly in rings over the park.
Walk past the emergency entrance to St. Francis and
larger-than-life shadows projected by ants and
low hanging branches and
think about stealing a newspaper.
I’ll fall into a quick draw against a rat and
fail to shoot a picture.