Clipper cigarettes,
The newly shaved shih-tzu
Leaping at my waist,
They talked of hillbilly tweakers
On Twain, a Sicilian pizza parlor
Where their impossible daughter
Had found her baby's father
In someone who'd always taken care of
His cotton shooter mom and chicken-flipping sister
And never knew what it was
To get anything from anyone for himself.
It helped them to laugh, remembering
How they set these curtains on fire,
Let friends embezzle the wine cellar,
Having to move back in again and again
In the basement witness protection program.
They had to drive the U-Haul from Vegas;
There's a shortage of them in California,
Everyone's leaving the state, like here,
Putting the old house up for sale.
Do we want a petunia in a pot?
A kumquat tree?
There are memories here
On this luminous porch
That will have to be snuffed out like a fire.
