I Dont Think Anyone Has Ever Sat Here Before.
Put their shit down. Crossed their legs.
Tried to really sit here. It’s pretty stupid of me to do it now.
There is an uncomfortable stream of cement cutting my back yard in two.
I’ve decided to sit there. It’s 39 degrees outside.
Kentucky was built by an angry magician.
He must’ve offended the river gods.
He must’ve proposed a dam.
They must’ve banished him from Ohia.
And so, he must’ve collected all the ugliest gasses
and made them a sky.
And it was grey
and they called it “Louisville”.
I’m staring at the recycling bin. It’s a hulk of boxed orange plastic
pulling itself out of the ground.
I think about strange fruit.
and if any might have grown in this yard.
Pastoral scene of the gallant south.
All of my neighbors have motion sensor lights constantly scanning their backyards.
I’m watching it all from behind a fence. I imagine them, hiding in their basements. From music.
For the rain to gather.
For the wind to suck.
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© Jak Cardini 2010
Jak Cardini lives in Louisville and is the founder of The Gold County Paper Mill. He has previously been published in Elimae, Word Riot, Girls With Insurance, Zygote In My Coffee, Japanese Baseball and others.
jakspratattack [at] gmail.com www.jakcardini.blogspot.com
