Char lines form on steak
inches above searing heat
powered by propane.

Her small protest sign
vexes his weak, squinting eyes.
Squint into blindness!

Small drops of water
drip and drop onto drywall.
There goes the ceiling!

Tacky flamingos
require ornamentation
beyond their pink shells.

Embrace the hot sun.
Without air conditioning,
barbecue improves.

Billions of police,
seemingly billions, at least,
walk the empty streets.

Emotion, you thief,
you have stolen it, her breath,
what she needs to live.

Intricate mirror,
possessed of potential…still,
cheap, wooden, dated.

Some public restrooms
suffer the weekend vomit
heaves of drunk strangers.

Men! Be subversive!
Bake cookies for your mother!
Let her lick the bowl!