One Bad Day

A dropped egg from the nest, a broken wing, no place to rest as screeching tires
careen past and sentry duty seems to last longer than the day could be
long gone memories of another bird's song echo in my head and the nestlings
haven't been fed. A busy mate once delivered by fate symbolizes a quickly closing
gait of a bird on land is a bit funny, like a beggar with too much money it all
makes sense in this bird's brain-- scavenged food washed down a storm
drain the frosty mug like a natural born thug who is really only just
laws written never were; a sad cat with loud purr-poseful actions
hot crossed buns loaded guns boring re-runs not enough fun
or enough funds to be--only enough to see what could have been
and then enough more for half a shot to pour
out the trouble onto another,
a friend, a lover, together but delving shallow wounds
feuds buried, then amused. A fuse too short to trust with fire
another round like a tire, or tired of sired saints of capital
there was no pride before this fall
only a summer too short to be a season , just a week or a weekend even it was
actually just one bad day.