Hiding from Harry Seekins

 

He says he’s balls deep

in the devil and I

will not challenge

his claim

 

His eyes were open

but he wasn’t there

Seeking

Always seeking

 

Sticky residue

up and down arms

from nicotine patches

he wears

 

Three up

Three up

Three up

Three up at a time

 

He is the itch

as the methheads

scratch their scalps

down to the skull

 

He is Muhammad Ali’s

phantom punch

He is Foreman slow

and deliberate moving mountains

 

Dancing in the bone yard

He is the man in the bunny

suit waving from the side

of the road

 

Train cars full of would

have could have

should have trail behind

him on a leash