The Last Tuesday

I have enough trash bags

and joints,

boxes, &

tape,

friends.

I’ll use them all

and get out in time

before they’re gone.

It’s been three years

six months, &

seven days too late.

I can finish smoking these

in five minutes.

Deep breaths.

I’m finally drinking from a wine glass,

no jelly jar.

The diner is disassembled-

a last dance in the kitchen, &

the floor is clean.

I want you

to leave your socks on.

So far I’ve found a sonnet,

a used razor blade,

trick or treat pumpkin,

candy leftover.

Dead mice, mold, & ants.

Cat piss. Stains.

Stickers behind the furniture.

Dust. Mushrooms.

Maggots. Skulls. Frogs.

My daughter’s first drawings.

Googley eyes.

Evening Primrose,

Black Eyed Susan’s,

Thistle &

Mullein.

Unfortunately

there’s nothing in the attic

but a ghost village

she dreams about.