Strange Neighbor Poem

It was all rain, gays, and spring rolls (the occasional stairs too).

Any of them could have been Michael Stipe if they had any inclination.

It’s how cowboy gentlemen know how to but don’t play the accordion.

Slippery moss, radiators, acceptable spousal abuse through the antennae.

There’s nothing more effete than guns: their intricacy, arrangement and pruning.

Nurses used to be in soap operas (all of ’em, no exceptions).

You could become the center of attention anywhere

since everyone was so easily shocked and faking appauled.

Headlines were easy to get at your personal risk, barring comedians.

The strange neighbor with a lot of pets and a lot of time on his hands.

Don’t think about why most people worry because most people don’t worry;

they wouldn’t know where to begin, haven’t put in the hours.

You have to respect yourself to eat bugs; it’s old school.

He reclined on a plush, grass hill above the ocean

like a fat mythologist with his head in his elbow.

The restaurant remained disorganized, but the food was out of this world.