my table has a flat tire, so erin and i drive it
to the church square that fixes them.
i was driving, because i always drive,
and when i drive with erin i drive without pants.
we arrive, and i barely have enough space to back
the table into the foyer, where the pastor in overalls
tells us he’ll only charge us more than we can afford.
i say ok and do a KKK turn out of the foyer.
the furry armadillos have been following us
ever since we crossed into church property.
they look like anteaters with greyhound bodies,
and fur like golden retrievers. erin didn’t think they
were cute. they didn’t think much of her either.
they are all mine. goddamn they’re fucking cute.
the matron loves it when i scratch both her cheeks at once.
it’s so satisfying.
james finds us and i’ve forgotten all about my
flat-tired table.
we walk to a neo-buddhist neo-shrine, i think it’s inspired
by the japanese, but i bet the armadillos had something
to do with it. they seem quite at home there.
it seems just a little too small for humans of our size,
but we fit ok. there’s a small walkway down the middle
with some single-stream fountains flowing right onto it.
they would soak your feet if you walked down it.
at the bottom is a cast iron fence
about a foot and a half off the ground.
the armadillos tread here a lot, i can tell.
no place for humans, anyway.
where did my pants go?
No comments:
Post a Comment