white bags of surrender

Six raspberry mauves,
coked up on pink electricity,
filling bags or time,
someone's housecoat life.

God, please make them
pay cash this time.

My customers love their
cheese sandwich houses
and mailboxes on metal rods
welded to planter boxes
like government shrubs.

I took resurfaced roads
used to be mine alone
through construction
wax ripping hair
from clay hills,
thousands of silver pipes
organized in piles.

I wanted to grab
a stick and hit them,
unholy marimba,
play music for the uprooted dead.

(note: this was sent to IBPC for May)