a tag-sale mismatch of time and taste

An attempt at a written visual painting of my first place in Austin, TX.

a jalopy and an antiquated jeep

sit deflated by a palm tree

and a rainy-day rusted bmx

add a welcome mat for a driver’s side window,

a t***y-bingo bumper sticker

for a touch of class

add a smattering of rough-and-tumble Texas grass

in chain-link fence �"

the front gate forever locked

(until a week or two ago)

add the hair-trigger sound of one dog’s bark

suddenly becoming a shouting match

over car alarms and short leashes

or the flock of strays of the front porch

pleading for broken bits of hot dogs

and plastic bowls of 2% milk

i named one Poofy, one Tomboy,

and come to think of it,

i haven’t seen Siamese-If-You-Please

in a good while now

oh, yes,

of course �" 

add the front porch

a twisted iron railing and a stripper pole

next to the stairs, two chairs 

(one comfy)

and a cooler for a coffee table

here, you’ll also often find

crusted cereal bowls and much

of Allan’s dirty laundry

add the inside

with its tag-sale mismatch of time and taste,

its hardwood floors, scarred

from the indoor-use of circular saws

add the bathroom sink,

the talk of the town, lately,

its pipes deemed clogged and undeniably unreachable �"

the hammer still there

amidst ceramic shards

and our newest household appliance,

the two-by-four support �"

the stem, you see, 

is structurally “unsound”.

add three, proud college grads

(affectionately educated,

unfortunately unemployed)

and the passion of distraction

add the remnants, reminders,

a parade of important letters

addressed to the likes of Amy C. Clark