Summer (or something)
Work in the sun,
Find a spot to bake,
To waste away to bones,
To get tan.
Sticky Popsicle sticks in grass,
Gaping pools, some bone dry, filled with trash.
Stray dogs picking through the alleys for scraps,
Slipping through holes in that urban jungle,
For bar-b-q you pretended to enjoy.
Tampon strings hang loose at the pool,
Fucking in that thick heat,
Hear those monsters howl,
Rip that flesh, baby,
Maybe that’ll do it.