Kind of Dark

A year of mayonnaise
Living in a meatloaf sandwich
With a mouthful of sardines.
Good. That seems to work.

Though my boots sound heavier
And the canary singing
In Charlie’s jukebox
Is a little off.

As for love, I was able to jump the car,
But the steering wheel still is missing.
Meanwhile, my suit of spittle kills another fly.

It’s like after the first hour
Of curfew on the last page
In your coloring book
Where the pig is laughing
At the both of us

Or lost in a game of pinball
Between the resplendent
Honeycomb and salubrious
Peach pit, bumping into the
Powder keg–

And then so much for healthy living
In a can of spinach, burping bolts
Of lightning, waving to the hearse.