Sunday morning

Sunday morning is modelling its mothcoat
I sniff, pedal backwards
then out come the flowers

lamp post crows nest
& land between the buildings

little brown birds become leaves

"do you know where the bathroom is?"
"no
                 I don't piss"

gassing up at the seven eleven
squatting on the edge of heaven

finding loves little loaves
left out in the rain
praises unto the pillow
& pass the ammo

"oh
he's no cowboy

he's just a man on a horse with a funny hat"