eating soup out of a miniature trash can

doesn’t necessarily mean i’m trash,

but i can see how you might get that impression,

though hopefully one day i’ll have good taste

enough to buy fancy china

made in pakistan

and painted in japan

gentrified thickets of asphalt

defining moments of anarchy spent yelling

inappropriate prayers under my breath

as traffic stalls

and me with it

decorative surfing on

linoleum waves crushing fantasy

day dreams spent on the beach

in the mind’s eye and

out of reach

Fred Aiken Writing