a dull lady with big calves

buys me
a shot of tequila
at the twisted parrot
on a
tuesday night.

lynyrd skynyrd
on the
jukebox

she tells me
someday
she wants a house
on a cul-de-sac

three children

and a cache
of
snowmobiles.

staring listlessly
at the cubs
on the overhead tv

i wait for some lightning
smoke signals
any sign of life
or a little madness
out of her:

but all she says
is something
about her
thursday night
dart-league

&

a tick
the size of a walnut
she pulled off
her beagle.

i told myself
i wouldn't
fuck idiots
anymore:

but it seems
the world offers little
beyond dull ladies
with big calves.

i order us
a double of
black velvet.

she opens her cell-phone
and chortles
a chorus of zeros
into it.

i shoulder back
to check
her ass.

i wait

&

wait.

by Justin Hyde